Code Geass 50k: Lelouch of the Imperium
by Soraga
Summary: In the fifty-first millennium, the Imperium of Man is in the final stages of collapse. As the forces of Abaddon the Despoiler close in on Terra, humanity's final stronghold, their only hope is the Emperor's forgotten soldiers: the Black Knights.
1. Prologue: Tears of the Emperor

**Author's Note: **Well, I like Code Geass, and I like Warhammer 40k. A friend of mine suggested to me to combine these two awesome things, and so this story was born. Taking place about ten thousand years after the current Warhammer 40k canon (hence the title), I've borrowed a few elements from the Black Library format, most notably the opening paragraphs. Anways, sit back and enjoy! While this may not have Warhammer's distinctive GRIMDARK elements at first, rest assured, it's coming.

**Disclaimer:** Agh. I'm too used to writing for sites where the disclaimer is understood. Anyways, I do not own Code Geass or Warhammer 40k. If I did, there would be agreement as to how Is(s)tva(a)n is spelled! And the arrival of the Lancelot would not derail Lelouch's plans every time!

**Prologue: Tears of the Emperor**

Lelouch Lamperogue awoke to the sound of knocking at the door, the sound audible even through the adamantium. He groaned, sandwiching his head between pillows in a futile effort to drown out the sound. The knocking only grew louder and more persistent. When it stopped after what seemed like an eternity, Lelouch breathed a sigh of relief, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before being confronted by the mountain of paperwork that doubtlessly awaited him. He was beginning to think that Malcador's vaunted Administratum was more trouble than it was worth: whatever paperwork it saved him was made up for by the bureaucracy that kept the organization running.

His eyes shot open when he heard the bedroom door opening. The list of people who could freely enter his bedroom was very, very short. Most of the select few never came across matters so important that they couldn't wait until his work day officially began. The others were scattered across the galaxy, taking some well-deserved time off. The last five hundred years had been a long, hard slog for them all of them, uniting the scattered worlds of humanity under the banner of the Imperium. The Great Crusade was over, and they all needed some rest before the task of consolidating and maintaining their gains began.

"If it's the Eldar throwing another tantrum over the treaty, I don't want to hear it. I've been more than generous with them, and my patience is at an end," Lelouch grumbled as he draped a robe over himself. He got out of bed carefully, as to not disturb CC, who still slept peacefully. She moaned slightly as a source of warmth suddenly left her side, but she didn't wake.

"Father, perhaps Fulgrim and I should have a talk with them?"

The booming voice jolted Lelouch fully out of his half-asleep state, as a wall of pale green suddenly appeared in front of him. He looked up, seeing the grinning face of Horus, who, despite being created in a genetic lab, was the closest to a son that he had ever had. The much larger man laughed and swept Lelouch into a hug that would have crushed the bones of any normal man. Lelouch could swear that he heard a few of his bones creaking under the pressure, despite having withstood much, much worse during the Crusade.

"Back from your vacation already?"

CC opened her eyes, stretching lazily before pulling on a robe and padding over to the other two. While her golden eyes remained passive, the corners of her mouth tilted upwards slightly in a rare half-smile. Though she didn't play favorites amongst the Primarchs, at least not as blatantly as Lelouch did, she would admit that she liked Horus much more than some of his other brothers, especially Alpharius, who always seemed to be up to something.

"Yes, mother," Horus turned back to Lelouch, "I stopped by Laeran on the way back. Fulgrim sends his regards, as well as somebody you would probably like to s-"

"Onii-chan!"

At speeds impressive even to a Primarch of the Astartes, a young brunette psychically flung herself at Lelouch, practically knocking him over. When Lelouch sufficiently recovered from the sudden impact and forced air back into his lungs, he returned the hug.

"Nunnally! How was your tour of the Imperium? I trust the Primarchs treated you well?"

Horus watched as the person that the Primarchs unanimously agreed was their favorite "aunt" launched into a high-speed tale of the last few years. Lelouch had made abundant promises to his younger sister that, when the worst of the Great Crusade was over, he would accompany her on a trip around the Imperium. Several years earlier, with all but the Eastern Fringe pacified and the Great Crusade in the last stages of winding down, he finally made good on that promise. The Primarchs had scrambled to be the first to host their favorite aunt, though Lorgar had won in the end, outmaneuvering even Alpharius.

As Nunnally described the rolling plains of Prandium, a world that Guilliman had proudly shown her when it was his turn to play host, she suddenly froze. Her expression became slack, and her eyes glazed over. Her jaw hung open in mid-sentence. Lelouch waved a hand in front of her face, shaking her slightly as his panic became evident. Nunnally wasn't the only one, as CC and Horus were in a similar condition. Fear, an emotion he had rarely felt even during the worst of the Great Crusade, began to seep into his mind.

As he was near the verge of panic, a blinding flash of light appeared before him. He could see a figure silhouetted in the light, but couldn't make out any features. It seemed to be female, and carried a staff by its side. Before he could demand an explanation, the figure spoke.

"Lelouch, this is all an illusion crafted by your enemies to weaken you. You must see past it!"

The voice was definitely female, and was soothing to him. The panic slowly melted away, replaced only by calm. Before he could ask anything, the figure turned around, and vanished into the light.

As if nothing had happened, Nunnally animatedly continued her tale. She trailed off when she noticed Lelouch freeze.

"Onii-chan?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. When she reached to grasp his hand, he jerked back as if burned. She froze as she noticed the sword in Lelouch's hand, alight with psychic fire.

"Onii-chan?" she asked again, this time with fear in her voice.

"None of this is real. It's all an illusion," Lelouch repeated to himself constantly, as he approached the cowering form of Nunnally. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swung his sword down. Then he leapt towards where he knew the CC-lookalike was standing, then towards where the Horus-lookalike was. There were several screams, and, when he opened his eyes again, the happy illusion was shattered. In front of him lay not the broken bodies of Nunnally, CC, and Horus, but the corpses of foul daemons. Surrounding him was not his bedroom, but the maddening dimensions of the Immaterium.

"Fool! You should have just stayed in the happy illusion I constructed for you!"

The booming laughter brought for a legion of daemons, which Lelouch could clearly see carried the mark of Tzeentch. He wasn't awfully surprised. Raising his sword aloft, he charged into the horde, hacking and slashing in every direction. Even with only slivers of his power available, even the hordes of daemons were no match for him. As soon as he dispatched the last one, the voice spoke again, as the Warp melted away.

He found himself standing amidst the wreckage of a city now, the broken bodies of countless hundreds of Japanese lying around him. He knew this scene well, as it was Tzeentch's favorite way of tormenting him. He could feel his arm rise on its own volition, even as he screamed for himself to stop, raising the gun level with the chest of the pink-haired girl barely two meters from him. He could only watch as he squeezed the trigger, watch as the pink-haired girl fell to the ground in an almost-graceful arc. There was a brief flash, and he was holding the gun once again, raising it to chest of the girl in front of him.

Over a bulk of what was once the Euro Universe of Old Terra now stood the monumental Imperial Palace, a series of enormous pyramids reaching kilometers into the sky. Deep in the heart of the largest of these pyramids laid the Sanctum Imperialis, the single most heavily-guarded room in the Imperium. Two magnificent Warhound Titans and the Companions, three hundred select Custodes, stood an eternal vigil over this enormous room, for in it lay the kilometer-high Golden Throne, where the God-Emperor of Mankind had lay in a state between life and death for two hundred centuries.

Had anybody looked upon the broken, Warp-ravaged body that was once the Emperor of Mankind, they would have seen a single tear make its way down his withered cheek.

**It is the 51****st**** Millennium. The Imperium of Man, having once stood supreme, is  
****crumbling. The Emperor, entombed within the Golden Throne, is dying. As the  
****Tech-Priests of the Mechanicum struggle in vain to prolong his life,  
****the light of the Astronomican is slowly being extinguished, leaving  
****humanity vulnerable to horrors of the Warp, and isolating countless worlds.**

**The innumerable souls of humanity look to the past, enviously beholding the  
****glories of the 41****st**** Millennium, when the Imperium was crumbling, but still  
****mighty. The time of the Great Crusade has all but passed into the realm  
****of myth. For if the Imperium was ever so mighty, how could it fall so far?**

**Across the galaxy, Imperial forces are besieged, as the legions of Imperial  
****Guard and Astartes cry out for reinforcements, only for  
their ****pleas to go unanswered, as there are no reinforcements. The forces of  
****Chaos, lead by Abaddon the Despoiler, overrun world after  
****world. Entire star systems are consumed by the Tyranids, or exterminated  
****by the Necrons.**

**It is the 51****st**** Millennium. It is the twilight of the Imperium…**


	2. Chapter One: The Fall of Ultramar

**A\N:** A slightly longer chapter than I usually write. Thus begins the fall of the Imperium of Man.

**Disclaimer:** In this particular reality, I do not own Warhammer 40k or Code Geass.

**Chapter One: The Fall of Ultramar**

**What Has Gone Before…**

The death of the Imperium of Man had begun during the Horus Heresy, but its effects were not truly felt until Abaddon the Despoiler launched the Thirteenth Black Crusade, the latest in a series of foul crusades to spread the blasphemies of Chaos throughout the galaxy. This Black Crusade, like all those before it, was met first by the defenders at the Cadian Gate, then by the millions of Imperial troops sent to reinforce the Gate. Like all the other Black Crusades before it, the Thirteenth ended with a vigorous Imperial Navy counter-offensive that recaptured most of what Abaddon had taken. The Thirteenth, though, was different in one respect. While the Imperium still held undisputed superiority in space, the Despoiler's forces had captured most of Cadia itself.

Time passed, and the Imperium breathed easy, turning its attentions to rebuilding even as the battle for Cadia raged on. For several millennia, there were no further Black Crusades, though the threat of Chaos was still ever-present. Abaddon had seemingly disappeared, and the various sects of Chaos were too embroiled in their own rivalries to unite. Then the Fourteenth Black Crusade began, marking the event that the Imperium had long dreaded: an almost-total unification of the remaining traitor Legions under the Despoiler. The Eye of Terror opened, and a million ships flooded through not only the Cadian Gate, but the nearby Arx Gate as well. Abaddon the Despoiler, his powers expanded even further by the favors of the Chaos Gods, lead this seemingly-unstoppable charge.

The Imperium, in all its bloated might, refused to die. It had clung on to life for ten thousand years, besieged on all sides by the heretic and the xeno, and it had no intention of ever letting go. The Gothic Sector and Cadia, the initial beachheads of the Fourteenth Black Crusade, were fortified to an extent second only to Holy Terra itself, and the resulting counterattack nearly broke the back of the Fourteenth Black Crusade. As the forces of Abaddon were left reeling, the seemingly-infinite manpower of the Imperium of Man was brought to bear, as men and women were flung by the millions towards the forces of Chaos, in hopes of stemming the tide. It worked, and the forces of Chaos were kept bottled up in their beachheads for centuries.

At first, the High Lords of Terra were optimistic. The Fourteenth Black Crusade had started out stronger than any of the ones before it, but with the forces of Chaos slowly being pushed out of the Gothic Sector and the Cadia system and back to the Eye of Terror, it seemed destined to failure. But as losses mounted, the Imperial line faltered and eventually broke. Chaos flooded into the rest of the galaxy, standing victorious on world after world. Entire Space Marine chapters, entire Imperial Guard regiments, were wiped out in the futile quest to stem the spread of Chaos. Fortunately, Abaddon's reunification of the Traitor Legions was not complete, and the Fourteenth Black Crusade soon stalled on account of petty squabbles and in-fighting. Even then, the Imperium was living on borrowed time: the damage was already done, with the entirety of Segmentum Obscurus firmly under the Despoiler's control, and the Imperium's once-inexhaustible armies struggling to replenish their ranks.

By the middle of M47, during what was called the Reign of Chaos by some, the Imperium's death seemed at hand. Even while divided, the combined might of the Traitor Legions was still formidable, and they constantly battered at the gates of the Imperium as heretical cults rose up on countless worlds. The Golden Throne, having steadily fallen into disrepair, was struggling to keep the Emperor alive, and the ever-faster fading of the Astronomican's light lead to the abandonment of thousands of worlds to whatever horrors happened upon them. Tyranids feasted upon entire star systems, while Necron tomb fleets embarked on an orgy of slaughter across the Imperium. As the Imperium burned, many more were driven to insanity and heresy by the laughter of the Chaos Gods looking on.

The defenses of Segmentum Solar, however, held their ground. The Chaos fleets endlessly battered against the wall that was Battle Fleet Solar. Reinforced by the remnants of the Imperial forces once stationed in Segmentums Pacificus and Obscurus, they withstood Chaos time and time again. While Imperial forces were being pulled back in increasing numbers to defend the cradle of humanity, Chaos slowly overran the rest of the galaxy. Segmentum Tempestus was overrun in a matter of centuries, and the fleets of the Despoiler set their sights on the Ultima Segmentum, the largest of all Segmentae, making up almost a third of the galaxy. With Ultima Segmentum captured, Chaos would surround the Imperium of Man on all sides, and most of the few precious Chapter Homeworlds remaining would fall into their hands.

The sheer size of Ultima Segmentum did not make for a quick conquest, and the heavily-entrenched Imperial forces made the Despoiler's armies pay a steep price for each meter of ground they captured. A desperate military alliance of human, Eldar, and Tau succeeded in holding back the forces of Chaos, but it was clear that they could only hope to delay the enemy. Resistance was still ferocious despite this inevitability, and, by the time M47 gave way to M48, the Chaos Warmasters had yet to make significant inroads into the Ultima Segmentum, and renewed infighting amongst the Chaos forces stalled the offensive.

The first half of M48 was the False Peace, as the unified Chaos offensive had stopped for the time being. While fighting persisted on the boundary between Imperial and Chaos-held space, there was nothing on a significant scale. Imperial officials all knew, however, that the infighting would not last forever, and Abaddon was already at work quashing the various uprisings. The latter half of M48 marked the beginning of what was known as the Time of Dying. Chaos was advancing once again, and the coalition in Ultima Segmentum could hardly stop it.

When the Time of Dying began, the forces of Chaos flooded into Ultima Segmentum anew, advancing at a rate never seen since the beginning of the Fourteenth Black Crusade. In less than two hundred years, Chaos ravaged dozens of sectors despite fierce resistance. The coalition was slowly splintering, but as the forces of Chaos moved in for the killing blow, their offensive slowed, then stopped entirely. Necron Tomb Worlds all across the galaxy began to awaken, perhaps roused by the enormous concentrations of Warp energy that were the Chaos forces. The Necrons carved an enormous path of destruction throughout the Chaos lines, causing Abaddon to divert his forces to fight them. Had this event occurred just a century earlier, the Imperium would have immediately launched a massive counter-offensive. However, as early on as the height of the Reign of Chaos, the Munitorium began insisting that insufficient forces existed to mount any kind of large-scale offensive without leaving the Imperium vulnerable to attack. Thus, Imperial generals could only watch as opportunity mocked them.

Despite the unforeseen Necron interference, Chaos was only delayed for three hundred years, as Tomb Worlds ran out of targets to exterminate and returned to their slumber once again. However, the Imperium still secured an enormous morale victory, having survived to see the dawn of M49. A fresh generation of troops was now ready to fight Chaos, and the forces at Ultima Segmentum beat back the forces of Chaos time and time again. Nevertheless, it was clear that the forces of Chaos would overrun the Segmentum in time, as they threw inexhaustible legions of cultists and daemons against the Imperium.

The latter half of M50 saw a brutal stalemate at Ultima Segmentum. Chaos occupied all but a few pockets of the Segmentum, but those few pockets resisted ferociously. These pockets of resistance were the Eldar craftworlds, the Astartes chapter homeworlds, and the Tau Empire, once again bound in a desperate alliance. The stalemate would continue for several centuries, with neither side gaining a decisive advantage over the other. As losses mounted, however, the coalition slowly began to disintegrate, and the last century of M50 saw the gradual abandonment of the Ultima Segmentum. The Eldar and Tau had withdrawn their forces to better defend their own territory, leaving the Imperium to stand alone against Chaos.

Faced with a hopeless battle, the High Lords of Terra decided to withdraw the remaining forces in the Ultima Segmentum back to Segmentum Solar, where the Chaos offensive was already encroaching on the Segmentum's outer fringes. The retreat that followed was disorganized, with countless ships lost in the Warp. By the second decade of M51, Ultima Segmentum was all but abandoned by the Imperium, the sole major Imperial stronghold in the Segmentum being Macragge. The forces of Chaos, especially those of the former Word Bearers Legion, descended upon the world with the intent of wiping out the Ultramarines chapter. Thus began the Second Battle of Macragge.

* * *

**Macragge, Ultima Segmentum  
****017.M51, Day 200 of the Second Battle of Macragge:**

The din of battle engulfed Macragge, as the seemingly-inexhaustible legions of Chaos swarmed the few brave Imperial defenders. Astartes of the Traitor Legions lead the charge, their blasphemous battle cries filling the air. They had already overrun much of the planet, and showed no signs of slowing down. The skies played host to a constant meteor shower, as remnants of the Imperial Navy in the Segmentum, hastily organized and designated Battle Fleet Ultima, clashed with the Chaos fleet overhead. Debris from destroyed ships rained down from orbit, burning up in the atmosphere, as Battle Fleet Ultima continued its hopeless battle.

"Stand firm men! The Emperor is our shield! His wrath is our weapon!"

The Commissar attached to the Valhallan 409th spoke those words with conviction, but the survivors of the 409th knew otherwise. In better times, the 409th would have been over a thousand strong, shipped all over the Segmentum to battle the Emperor's enemies. These were not such times. The 409th itself was a "phantom" unit, one of dozens of ragtag regiments slapped together during the Imperium's long retreat back towards Segmentum Solar. Such regiments were organized and reorganized so often that the Munitorium had long since given up on keeping track of them all. The troopers of the 409th weren't even all Valhallans: at some point during their retreat, they had picked up splinters of a Catachan regiment as well.

"Thunderhawk away! Thunderhawk away!"

A few members of the 409th paused briefly to look up, seeing the massive aircraft lift towards orbit. Those Thunderhawks, or what they were carrying, more accurately, were the entire reason several precious Imperial Guard regiments had been diverted from their march towards Terra to defend Macragge. Each Thunderhawk that reached orbit meant dozens more Space Marines defending Holy Terra when the time inevitably came. Vital equipment, especially the irreplaceable Terminator suits, was also being evacuated into orbit.

Each wave of Chaos was met with a storm of lasfire, as the 409th, along with several other Imperial Guard regiments, held the line around the Ultramarines' fortress-monastery. What remained of the Ultramarines chapter still on the ground aided in the defense as much as they could, but it was clear that they were running low on ammunition and that their numerous wounds were beginning to catch up to them. In the early stages of the Second Battle of Macragge, the Ultramarines had provided fearsome support for the Imperial Guard, and the planetary defenses had inflicted a dear toll upon the Chaos fleet. The forces of Chaos were relentless, throwing endless waves of poorly-armed cultists and lesser daemons with the sole purpose of soaking up the defenders' ammunition. When one wave was fought off, the next would charge before the Techmarines and Apothecaries could finish making their rounds.

As the heretical battlecries filled the air once more, the exhausted defenders of Macragge forced their bodies to move. Even an extra day for the evacuation effort could make all the difference. Even the most optimistic, however, found it hard to believe that they would last past the hour. All that could be seen for miles around was a solid mass of daemons and cultists, with the titanic forms of Traitor Astartes occasionally towering above the crowd. The blasphemous litanies chanted by the enemy stripped many of their sanity. The lucky ones received a lasbolt to the head from the person next to them.

The defenders slowly lost ground, as the forward trenches devolved into bayonet combat. Traitor Astartes would wade through the doomed positions, absorbing enormous amounts of punishment as the Guardsmen within desperately tried to hold them back. The enemy horde continued their charge through the trenches, overrunning positions with their sheer numbers. The bodies of the dead, carried forward by the momentum of those behind them, soaked up yet more weapons fire from the defenders.

The defenders slowly began to retreat within the thick stone walls of the fortress-monastery in hopes of buying even a few more hours for the Thunderhawks to make their rounds. In some areas, the bodies of the dead were piled so densely that they formed makeshift floors, and the sight of them lowered the defenders' morale even further. The sight of dead Astartes amongst the bodies caused some to break outright, reducing them to gibbering wrecks that their comrades killed out of mercy. It was already abundantly clear that Macragge was lost, and several Imperial Guard regiments had already begun to evacuate to orbit, torching their heavy equipment and anything else they couldn't take with them.

"Commissar! The right flank's been overrun! We're cut off!"

The commissar of the Valhallan 409th quickly glanced around the area, noticing that the unit to their right flank had indeed been overrun, allowing the enemy to encircle what remained of the unit. Earlier fighting had whittled down the 409th to barely a third of full strength, and the deaths of most of the senior command staff had left the commissar the commanding officer by virtue of seniority. To hope that they could fight their way through such a horde when faced with such odds was beyond naively optimistic. In all his years of service to the Emperor, he knew that his life would end in such a manner. He hefted his bolt pistol in one hand, and made sure his remaining magazines were in easy reach. He drew his chainsword, and raised it into the air.

"Then we go down fighting! Men of Valhalla and Catachan, stand with me one final time! Fix bayonets and charge!"

The remnants of the 409th surged forward, their bayonets drawn. They crashed into the enemy line, hacking and slashing in every direction. There was no need to aim: the enemy was packed so thickly that any bayonet thrust was guaranteed to hit something. As if the universe wanted to add insult to injury, the sacrifice of the 409th had not slowed down the forces of Chaos at all. The mass of daemons and heretics and traitors trampled over the Guardsmen of the 409th, continuing towards the gates of the fortress-monastery. Small explosions were seen where the 409th once stood, as the Guardsmen detonated their remaining grenades and even overcharged their lasrifles in a last-ditch attack on the enemy. Shrapnel peppered the enemies closest to the blasts, but the bodies of the dead were quickly trampled underfoot by the advancing mob.

* * *

The Imperial fleet in orbit was spearheaded by the _Glorious_, an old and irreplaceable Oberon-class battleship. The troopships at the center of Battle Fleet Ultima were busily unloading dropships, then sending them back down to the planet for another load of Imperial Guardsmen. The Ultramarines chapter fleet, lead by the might Battle Barge _Caesar_, was busily doing the same. Even from space, it was clear that the ground forces could not hold out long enough to evacuate much more of their number. They lasted long enough to see the two hundred and first day of the Second Battle of Macragge, when a message from the surface sealed the world's fate.

"Admiral, the situation is hopeless. The fortress-monastery is being overrun. The incoming wave of dropships shall be the final group. We are destroying the landing pads before they too are overrun."

The Admiral of Battle Fleet Ultima turned towards his bridge crew, issuing orders to leave orbit immediately. Before he could tell his astropath to relay the same orders to the rest of the fleet, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He did not need to turn around to know it was the Inquisitor that was hitchhiking, for the lack of a better word, aboard the _Glorious_. He had simply strolled aboard the ship as they prepared to join up with the makeshift Battle Fleet Ultima, and ordered them to continue going wherever they were originally headed. He was almost never seen by the crew, which suited them just fine, except when one of them mentioned seeing a vessel with a malformed silver trident head painted on the side.

"Exterminatus."

The Admiral paled for a moment, before cancelling his previous orders. He contacted the gun decks, relaying that dreaded world throughout the crews. He turned to the astropath to relay the Exterminatus orders throughout the rest of the fleet. There was no time for the conventional combination of lances and Cyclonic Torpedoes. Atmospheric Incinerators, normally reserved for the most extreme circumstances, were fired. Macragge still burned when Battle Fleet Ultima retreated into the Warp.

* * *

**Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_**, Somewhere in the Galaxy  
****Ten Days After the Second Battle of Macragge**

Kallen Kozuki wasn't an awfully imposing woman. Standing at slightly more than 1.5 meters in height, she found herself craning her neck to look most people in the eye. Those that underestimated the head of the Black Knights' Military Arm-Special Forces Division never did so again. Known as the "Crimson Lotus," her custom Guren-Seraph blazed a path of destruction through the enemy forces. She was an incredibly potent Psyker, renowned for her ability to alter the flight paths of incoming weapons fire, often sending it back towards the enemy, and to see several seconds into the future, augmenting her formidable hand-to-hand skills.

The Intelligence Center of the _Ikaruga_ was perhaps the single most technologically-sophisticated room aboard the vessel, where the latest computers constantly intercepted, translated, and sorted countless astropathic communications. It was also the most depressing, as almost anything worth attention was doubtlessly an Imperial communication listing staggering death tolls on some battlefront or another. Kallen was currently on her way there, the orderly on duty having informed her that something interesting had come up.

As Kallen rounded the corner, the guard on duty stood up and began to salute, before she waved him to sit back down. As he scanned over her identification with the sluggishness that came with being a first-timer to desk duty, she noticed that he was wearing the dark grey tunic of the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing, instead of the black-and-silver tunic of rank-and-file Black Knights soldiers. She puzzled over what a member of the elite OPAW was doing on desk duty, when his nametag came into view and it all clicked.

Reserve Sergeant Johann Nathan, formerly of the 5th OPAW, but was recently transferred to the 10th OPAW. Barely twenty-three, and he'd already seen more action than most Black Knights see in their entire careers. She'd personally commanded the campaign that was his first taste of combat: an assault against a Tyranid Hive Fleet four years ago in which a Lictor had taken off his arm. Almost as soon as his arm had been regenerated, he'd been tossed into the Third Necrotic War. For somebody who had never seen Necrons before, he did surprisingly well until the Battle of Deneb. The poor kid started talking again after about a week, and he sat out the rest of the war in a reserve unit.

Apparently satisfied that she was indeed General Kallen Kozuki, the Reserve Sergeant waved her through, helpfully placing his hand on the biometric sensor and opening the armored door for her. Stepping inside, she instantly noticed that the air was a few degrees cooler than the air outside. A few millennia ago, it would have been to cool down the computers. Now, it was done out of sheer force of habit. She was hardly surprised to see a young-looking woman with waist-length green hair already there. Even after all these millennia, Kallen could never get over the feeling that CC's eyes were always looking directly into her soul. Then again, she was a Psyker of even greater power than Kallen was, so such would not be a bad assumption.

"The latest dispatches intercepted from Imperial astropaths. They called down Exterminatus on Macragge. At least twelve Imperial Guard regiments, the entire Macragge PDF, and half the Ultramarines chapter were still on the ground when it occurred," the immortal summarized in her usual deadpan voice, as if the millions of lives snuffed out were as significant as insects.

Kallen tapped her earpiece twice, bringing up a private channel. Macragge was the final Imperial stronghold outside of Segmentum Solar. It was now time to act.

* * *

Suzaku awoke to the annoying beeping sound of his communicator. He fumbled it into his ear, knowing full well that only a few people aboard the _Ikaruga_ knew of the private channel, and they never used it unless it was an extreme emergency. The last time it was used was just before the Third Necrotic War.

"General Kururugi speaking."

"Suzaku? It's Kallen. Wake Nunnally. Tell her that Macragge's fallen."

Before he could reply, CC's voice appeared on the channel, "And don't try to deny it. It's an open secret where the governor can be found after-hours. You might as well move her nameplate to your door and be done with it."

Suzaku could practically feel the green-haired witch's smirk. He closed the channel, and turned the sleeping figure beside him, shaking her gently.

"Nunnally. Nunnally…"

Nunnally blearily opened her eyes, as if to reply. She began to close them again, before they shot wide open.

"WHAT! Macragge's fallen?" she exclaimed, shooting up at a speed that surprised even Suzaku.

No, thought Suzaku as he cracked his nose back into place, I was not just surprised by Nunnally. It was simply not energy-effective to move out of her way.

Nunnally quickly pulled a robe on, tying the sash around her waist as she inserted her own communicator into her ear. Tapping in the various governmental channels, she began to call the upper echelons of the Black Knights civil government, calling an emergency session in fifteen minutes. She could see Suzaku off to the side, presumably doing the same with his chiefs of staff.

* * *

Reserve Sergeant Johann Nathan was already at his desk when a slight pressure in his skull told him that the _Ikaruga_ had engaged its Warp drive. Before he could wonder why, the news was broadcast over the _Ikaruga_'s PA system. The _Ikaruga_ was moving out, and the Black Knights were now on a war footing. All reserve units were to be immediately upgraded to alert status. Quite a few OPAW members groaned at that, as alert status meant sleeping in the drop bays wearing full body armor. Silence reigned when Governor Nunnally announced their destination: Terra.

* * *

**A\N:** I'm a rather big fan of omakes. I'll have quite a few, some (hopefully) humorous, and some more serious supplementary material. This is one of the serious ones, detailing what exactly happened to the Corporal during the Battle of Deneb.

**Omake: The Battle of Deneb**

Lances of red and green crossed the battlefield, as the 5th OPAW continued its advance up the hive. Of all the enemies that the Black Knights had ever faced, the Necrons were definitely the toughest. The 5th OPAW had lost many good men and women to the enemy Gauss weapons, which bored through their battle suits alarmingly quickly. Their hadron carbines blew holes in the Necron formations, reducing Warriors into twisted scrap metal, but the enemy just kept on coming.

When a sudden meteor shower appeared in the sky, the morale of the 5th OPAW threatened to break. The Black Knights orbital support consisted of the destroyer _Avalon_ and a squadron of frigates, up against a Necron fleet of roughly similar size. The last report was not good, and if debris was raining down the atmosphere…

"We got word from the _Avalon_! Confirmed kill on Necron Harvest Ship!"

A cheer rose throughout the 5th OPAW, as the Necron vessel broke up in the atmosphere. The Scythe-class Harvest Ship was a tough ship to hit, and even harder to bring down. The _Avalon_ had used its powerful forward-mounted hadron cannons on it, and, even then, it took several FLEIJA volleys to bring the monster down. Despite the difficult battle, the news did wonders for the ground forces, which began advancing through the rapidly-thinning ranks of the Necrons, now cut off from reinforcements.

The 5th OPAW rushed down the ranks of the Necron Warrior squad, rapidly closing the distance before sending a wall of hadron fire at them. Several were blown off their feet, and the green flashes of Necrons phasing out were gratifyingly common. When the battle became close-in, it was a small miracle that the members of the 5th OPAW were not hitting each other with their weapons. Many had switched to their hadron swords, taking advantage of the clumsiness of the Necron Warriors in melee combat.

"Necron Lord! Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The members of the 5th OPAW not involved in the melee turned their carbines towards the towering Necron Lord, sending a storm of hadron bolts into the automaton, to little avail. They pockmarked the monstrosity's armor, which just flowed back together. The thing lowered its staff, vaporizing one of the OPAW members with a stream of lightning. Participants in the nearby melee, now clearly an OPAW victory, were beginning to add their own firepower towards bringing down the Necron Lord.

Slowly, the wounds taken by the Necron Lord began to add up, and the thing slumped, seemingly using its staff as a cane. A few more shots caused it to finally fall over, before phasing out in a flash of green.

"Hey, has anyone seen Johann?"

The members of the 5th OPAW quickly sounded off, and, surely enough, Corporal Johann Nathan was missing. The members of the 3rd Squad began to broadcast on the squad channel, in hopes of locating the missing Corporal, but were saved a lot of trouble when the said Corporal's voice broke into the channel.

"Aiiiiiieeee! They're everywhere! Everywhere!"

"Corporal! Calm down! Just keep talking and we'll trace your position!"

The Corporal's panicked screams were heard over the chattering of a hadron carbine, doubtlessly his own, and the ripping sound of Gauss flayers.

They found him an hour later, huddled in a corner and muttering "Cold. So cold." Any attempts to find out what had happened were only met with silence.

_Battle of Deneb, After Action Report Supplementary:_ On the topic of Corporal Johann Nathan, 3rd Squad, 5th OPAW, it was determined upon review of his helmet camera footage that he had taken a wrong turn during a firefight, and was separated from his unit. While attempting to rejoin his unit, he encountered a Necron Pariah squad attempting to flank the main body of the 5th OPAW. In taking them down, the Corporal suffered severe psychological strain from exposure to their psychic-blotting aura, eventually going into a state of severe shock. He currently remains in the medical wing.


	3. Chapter Two: Death of the Imperium

**A/N:** If this story gets buggy, please PM me. The uploader really doesn't like me right now, so I've resorted to editing an earlier document.

**Disclaimer:** In this particular reality, I do not own Warhammer 40k or Code Geass. There's another disclaimer at the end, since I don't want to spoil the omake

**Chapter Two: Death of the Imperium  
**

**Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance_, Mars Orbit  
****Forty-Three Days After the Second Battle of Macragge**

It was a fact long denied: Battle Fleet Solar was dying. Once the galaxy's mightiest fleet, Battle Fleet Solar was a mere shadow of its former self. The once-inexhaustible flow of ships from the shipyards of Mars dried up as Chaos overran the galaxy. The ships Mars could send them were flimsy, built using inferior modern techniques, and never in sufficient supply to replace losses. In such dark times, even these poor imitations of Imperial vessels were regarded as nearly priceless, and the loss of even the smallest escort was a devastating blow to Battle Fleet Solar. None of the High Lords expected the Battle Fleet to last past the century. As Chaos incursions grew larger and more frequent, many didn't expect Battle Fleet Solar to last past of the decade.

The _Emperor's Vengeance_ was absolutely priceless to both the Mechanicum and the Imperium. One of perhaps only three Emperor-class battleships left in Imperial hands, the vessel was well over ten thousand years old. Its squadrons of attack craft could quickly turn the tide of a fleet battle, but what truly made it priceless was the technology it contained. Much of it was lost to the Mechanicum, and the ship was too valuable to risk reverse-engineering it. With more and more construction techniques being lost every day, the Tech-Priests of Mars were in universal agreement that, should construction of a ship the size of the _Emperor's Vengeance_ be undertaken with modern techniques, the resulting ship would snap in half under its own mass. The _Emperor's Vengeance_ was utterly irreplaceable and nearly impossible to repair. As the High Lords were reluctant to expose it to any kind of enemy fire, all that firepower was currently orbiting above Mars, while Chaos fleets had yet to penetrate even the outer fringes of the system.

While the ship itself was irreplaceable, the rest of Battle Fleet Solar possessed no qualms about cannibalizing its crew. Casualties, especially amongst the picket ships, were incredibly heavy, and the _Emperor's Vengeance_ represented a ready source of extra manpower. Years of essentially acting as a troop depot left the battleship with a skeleton crew of barely two hundred thousand for a ship requiring in excess of a million men to operate efficiently. It had been reduced to a mobile command center for Battle Fleet Solar, using its few remaining Astropaths to quickly relay messages around the system.

"Lord Admiral, the picket ships have detected a large presence in the Warp. They have dispatched ships to investigate."

A presence in the Warp meant nothing good. Few Imperial naval squadrons were large enough to cast a noticeable Warp shadow anymore, and those squadrons never left Terra. Occasionally, a large troop convoy would arrive, bearing the remnants of one world or another, but those had stopped almost entirely a month ago. If there was a Warp shadow, it was undoubtedly a Chaos fleet, one of the many under the Despoiler that had harassed Battle Fleet Solar nonstop for years. At first, the fresh and motivated crews had driven back the Great Enemy with ease, but now these crews were exhausted and demoralized. Driving back each successive wave was becoming harder and harder, and rumor had it that the Despoiler himself was en route to Holy Terra with a fleet dwarfing all others before it.

* * *

**Imperial Light Cruiser _Mors Noctis  
_****Outskirts of Terran System**

The _Mors Noctis_, a name roughly meaning "Death of the Night" in High Gothic, was a light cruiser of the Dauntless-class. Thousands of such ships once patrolled the space lanes, their full complement of weapons batteries, lances, and torpedoes providing a devastating surprise to anyone underestimating the tiny ship. Those glory days are long past, and the _Mors Noctis_ was nothing compared to its ancestors. Barely two hundred years old, the inferior modern construction techniques that went into building it precluded its participation in anything heavier than a skirmish, as even a few stray shots could disable it.

The five light cruisers of _Ascendens Ius_ squadron, four Endeavor-class vessels and an Endurance-class, were the larger threat. Capable of fending off persistent attacks by escort vessels, they were truly fearsome when working in tandem, their combined firepower capable of gutting a cruiser. At roughly a thousand years old, they were of superior quality to the _Mors Noctis_, though they were still incapable of holding out in a prolonged firefight. Against the warships of Chaos, some of which dated back to the Great Crusade, they would stand little chance.

"Captain, we have detected multiple Warp signatures off port bow. Auspex scans have identified them as a Chaos fleet consisting of eighteen vessels."

The _Mors Noctis_ and its escorts sped towards the Chaos fleet, pushing their engines to the limit, in order to take advantage of their close-in firepower. As the _Ascendens Ius_ squadron moved into torpedo range, the _Mors Noctis_ provided covering fire with its lance batteries. One of the high-intensity energy beams slammed nearly head-on into an Infidel-class raider attempting to lock its torpedoes onto the approaching squadron. The lance punched through the unarmored prow of the escort ship, through several decks, before exiting out the lower left stern. The vessel went dark, and tumbled through space for several seconds before its plasma reactors went critical and exploded. The debris momentarily confused the sensors of the other Chaos vessels, giving the escort squadron time to close in.

"_Ascendens Ius_ squadron is making attack run!"

The four Endeavor-class vessels split into two groups, each taking one flank of the Chaos fleet. They fired broadsides into the midst of the enemy fleet as fast as the crews could load fresh shells into the batteries, with little regard for a firing solution. The two fleets were already practically on top of one another. One of the light cruisers pivoted in space, firing a full spread of torpedoes into the Chaos fleet. Several of them impacted an Idolator-class raider, disabling nearly every weapon battery on the port side and sending the vessel spinning through space with several gaping holes in the hull. Atmosphere spewed from the wounds, the air crystallizing as it met the void. A barrage of lances from the _Mors Noctis_ broke the ship's back, causing it to buckle and then split in half.

By now, the Chaos fleet had recovered from its initial shock at losing two ships, and began to fight back. Lances and torpedoes crisscrossed through space between the two fleets. The pair of cruisers the Chaos formation was centered around traded lances with the _Mors Noctis_, though at those ranges, they were doing little more than annoying one another. The void shields of the _Mors Noctis_ held for the first few salvos, as the _Ascendens Ius_ squadron broke off their attack run to strike the cruisers. The Endurance-class vessel used its lances to pepper one of the cruisers' shields while the four Endeavor-class vessels closed in, firing salvoes of torpedoes in hopes of disabling the cruiser's lance batteries.

As the Imperial light cruisers concentrated their efforts on the Chaos cruisers, the escorts struck back. A lance from one of the escort vessels punched through the taxed shields of _Ascendens Ius_ Beta and strike unprotected armor. The armor glowed for a second, before finally giving way. The lance beam exited out the opposite flank of the ship, punching through ammunition stores and gun batteries. The already-catastrophic damage was compounded by secondary explosions, threatening to tear the fragile vessel in two. A torpedo salvo from another Chaos vessel slammed into the escort amidships, blowing in half in one enormous explosion, peppering the void shields of _Ascendens Ius_ Gamma.

The loss of _Ascendens Ius_ Beta was not in vain, as _Ascendens Ius_ Delta and Epsilon were able to flank around the cruisers while the Chaos escorts were busy ripping the other escort group apart. Swinging their hulls around, the two Endeavor-class escorts unleashed the broadside firepower they were so well known for, sending salvoes of weapons fire into the lightly-protected rear of the Chaos cruiser. A volley of torpedoes slammed into the engines of one of the cruisers, disabling them. The sudden loss of propulsion, coupled with the inertia of the torpedo hits, send the crippled ship careening towards the second cruiser. The crew of the cruiser noticed its disabled counterpart too late, and the two cruisers collided. The second cruiser was sliced in half, as a barrage of lances from the _Mors Noctis_ and _Ascendens Ius_ Alpha finished off the first cruiser.

It didn't take an Inquisitor to realize that something was wrong. The Chaos vessels making up the fleet in front of them were flimsy imitators, built with modern techniques. As the forces of Chaos swept through the galaxy, they captured countless Forge Worlds and the vast repositories of knowledge they contained. Many of their ships used superior construction materials and techniques dating back to the Age of Imperium, and some went back as far as the Great Crusade. The presence of flimsy modern ships indicated only one thing: a probing attack. And a probing attack always indicated a bigger fleet.

The captain of the _Mors Noctis_ was the first to realize this, turning towards his communications officer. His tone, underscored with panic, left no room for question.

"Get me the _Emperor's Vengeance_, and don't take no for an answer!"

The realization had come too late. The communications officer had scarcely established a channel with a Warp rift opened, the massive form of a Desolator-class battleship pushing through. The vessel plowed through half the Chaos scouting force, ironically doing more damage than the Imperial squadron sent to meet it. A salvo from its main batteries reduced the _Mors Noctis_ to dust. With the Dauntless-class out of the way, the _Ascendens Ius_ squadron stood little chance. Their torpedoes and lances were pinpricks against the battleship. A few more salvoes silenced their brave, but ultimately futile, resistance.**

* * *

Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance_, Mars Orbit  
****Ten Hours After the Destruction of the _Mors Noctis_**

"Lord Admiral, the _Mors Noctis_ and its escorts have disappeared from our sensor net. We have detected a significant Chaos fleet near the patrol's last reported position."

The Lord Admiral turned to face the unfortunate captain, his expression that of somebody facing something particularly unpleasant. The captain gulped, fully expecting that the Lord Admiral would just shoot him right then and there. For one moment, the captain swore that he saw the Lord Admiral's hand twitch towards his laspistol. The Lord Admiral closed his eyes, as if collecting his thoughts, before turning to address the captain in an almost dangerously calm manner.

"What do we have that can make the intercept?"

"Lord Admiral," the captain began, motioning for a nearby crewmember to activate the hololith display, "seven cruiser battle groups are deployed in these locations," the captain reeled off as he jabbed a points on the map, "and a battle cruiser group stationed here," he pointed to Jupiter's orbit, "can be underway in four hours, totaling just under five hundred."

"How long under they can engage the Chaos fleet?" the admiral asked, his concentration almost exclusively on the swarms of little triangles representing Chaos and Imperial ships alike.

"The Chaos fleet comes from above the system plane, and, as a result, the closest battle group is approximately forty-three hours away."

The captain was interrupted by a naval orderly whispering something into his ear. The captain's face took on a shocked expression, as the hololith updated itself.

"Lord Admiral, we have received reports that the remnants of Battle Fleet Ultima and the Ultramarines chapter fleet have appeared at the edge of the system. They totally seventy-five ships, and are in direct path of the Chaos fleet, and will enter firing range in seventeen hours."

The Lord Admiral closed his eyes again, leaning his head back as if deep in thought. Within thirty seconds, he had made his decision.

"Open a line to Battle Fleet Ultima."

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Glorious  
_****Outskirts of Terran System**

Morale aboard Battle Fleet Ultima was near the breaking point, having endured a harrowing forty-day journey through the Warp from what was once Ultramar. Even in the best of times, Warp travel was dangerous, and even a split-second interruption of the Gellar Fields spelling doom for the ship and its occupants at the hands of foul daemons. With the untold thousands of blasphemous rituals taking place all across the Chaos-held galaxy, not even the Gellar Fields were needed more than ever, yet provided less and less protection as time passed. Ships were destroyed in massive Warp storms stretching light-years, and the seventy-five ships present represented all that was left of Battle Fleet Ultima and the Ultramarines Chapter Fleet.

Daemons besieged the fleet all throughout their flight through the Warp, and many ships were ripped apart in their frenzy to reach the souls within. Even the loss of all those ships, however, could not compare to the loss of the _Caesar_, ripped apart by hostile Warp currents a mere two days from the relative safety of Terra. The sacrifice of hundreds of thousands had been in vain as the _Caesar_ was lost along with its entire Ultramarines complement. A portion of the chapter's fighting strength had been aboard its strike cruisers at the time, but the loss of three entire companies along with all their equipment was a huge blow even with the chapter at full strength.

"Sir, we have received a message from Battle Fleet Solar command. We are to change course immediately and head towards these coordinates."

The hololith activated, as a dot appeared on the map. Had the resolution been better, one might have seen that it was pulsing. A swarm of red triangles, more than twice the size of the group of blue triangles that was Battle Fleet Ultima, appeared to be heading towards that point as well. The logic engine rapidly spat out that the estimated time to arrival was seventeen hours.

Outside, it was apparent that the Ultramarines chapter fleet had received a similar message, as the vessels began to peel out of formation. Normally, the Ultramarines would have asserted that they were a sovereign Astartes chapter, not subject to the authority of Imperial Navy command. No objection was heard this time. If somebody had so much an inkling that ramming a battle barge into a Chaos vessel might buy Terra more time, they probably would have done it without hesitation.

* * *

**Ecclesiarchal Palace  
****Holy Terra**

Even in such dark times, the Adeptus Ministorum, better known as the Ecclesiarchy, still commanded the loyalty and faith of the Imperium. As Chaos pressed in from all sides, Imperial citizens flocked by the billions to listen to the Ecclesiarchy's priests speak of salvation and deliverance. The Reign of Chaos and the Age of Dying was the Emperor's final test for humanity, to weed out the unfaithful so that humanity may ascend into a new Golden Age. After centuries of preaching the same message over and over, even some of the Cardinals began believing it, ignoring the massive Chaos warbands that roamed the galaxy, plundering whatever worlds caught their attention.

While reduced to barely a formality, the daily drawing of the Emperor's Tarot was still attended by the High Lords of Terra. The drawings never gave good news: the Great Eye, the Despoiler, the inversed Emperor, all signs of a time of trial for the Imperium at the hands of Chaos. More than one man had been drive insane upon drawing one of the worst omens of all: the Eye of Horus, the Great Hoste, the Galactic Lens, the Shattered World, and the inversed Throne. Such an omen, signifying a triumph of Chaos, was drawn nearly every day at the Ecclesiarchal Palace.

Today was different. The Senatorum Imperialis gathered in the chamber as the Ecclesiarch lead them in their daily prayers. Lesser men would have had their faiths broken long ago at the thought of so many payers for deliverance gone unanswered, but the High Lords of Terra were not "lesser men. The prayers concluded, the Ecclesiarch began to draw the Tarot cards as lesser members of the Ecclesiarchy continued chanting in the background. The customary five cards were drawn, but as the Ecclesiarch revealed the first one, he paled. He drew a vial of consecrated oils from the folds of his robes, sprinkling it over the cards as he chanted prayers.

After a few minutes, the Ecclesiarch was apparently satisfied, and turned towards the other eleven High Lords.

"It appears that the Emperor has a message of great importance," he stated cryptically, as he revealed the cards to all. Despite four of the cards not being present in a normal Emperor's Tarot deck, the High Lords immediately knew their identity.

The first was familiar: the Despoiler. Normally warning of a powerful champion of Chaos, the Despoiler was inversed, indicating the rise of a champion to challenge the forces of Chaos.

The other four cards, none of them had ever seen before.

The first depicted a young woman, perhaps twenty, with her eyes closed. Her waist-length green hair seemed to float, as if weightless, barely concealing a band of red on her forehead. She possessed an ethereal beauty, and all twelve of the High Lords immediately knew the card's identity: the Empress.

The second depicted another young woman, her eyes wide open, displaying a most vivid shade of violet. Chestnut-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and there was an air of innocence around her. She was sitting on the ground, surrounded by a holy aura. The Sibling, all twelve High Lords immediately thought.

The third depicted two back-to-back warriors, one male and one female. The armor on the male was a gleaming white, and he wielded two flaming swords. The female donned crimson armor, and one arm was longer than the other. Close inspection revealed it to be a three-clawed arm, the hand alight with cleaning flame. These were the Knights.

The fourth and final of the unknown cards was one that drew a great deal of attention from the Inquisitorial representative. It depicted a malformed trident head, silver in color. Similar symbols had been sighted all over the galaxy, though nobody knew exactly what they meant. Yet, a nagging in the back of their skulls told them that these were the Chosen.

The Ecclesiarch suddenly found himself compelled to draw another two cards. Reaching towards the deck, he drew an Emperor. The other eleven Lords were complete silent. With a trembling hand, the Ecclesiarch grasped the next card and flipped it over. He was confused for a second, as the card depicted a flaming bird rising from the ashes. His mind dredged through long-forgotten lessons of Old Terran legends, before realization hit him. It was the Phoenix, symbol of rebirth.**

* * *

???**  
**The Warp**

Deep in her sanctum, the Guardian observed the entire scene play out. She looked upon the tradition of the Emperor's Tarot with some disdain. As if the Emperor could spare time from his battle with Chaos to play cards! Nevertheless, the tradition did have its uses. She was disturbed from her line of thought by a ripple in the Warp. Without bothering to look, she grabbed the offending object from off its shelf. While it appeared to be a leather-bound book, it was neither leather nor a book, but a psychic manifestation of something as intangible as the strings of fate.

Running a willowy finger down the spine, she fished a pair of reading glasses from the folds of her dress before opening it. Neither the act of reading the nonexistent book nor using reading glasses were actually necessary, but she liked to cling on to a few semblances of her past life. Sighing, she slammed the book shut and tossed it back onto its shelf. With a wave of her hand, the infinitely comfortable armchair she had conjured from the raw psychic energies of the Warp, and which she had spent nowhere near enough time relaxing in, vanished.

With another flick of her wrist, she conjured up a staff. Even after nearly fifty thousand years on the job, she still couldn't abandon the notion that guardians were supposed to have a staff of some sort. She tapped the "floor" of her sanctum-which was, like the book and the bookshelves, nonexistent-twice, opening up a portal to the Materium. Taking a deep breath-another unnecessary habit she'd clung on to-she focused her vast reserves of psychic energy. She was going to burn more energy in the next few hours than she had in the last millennia.

Stepping through, the Guardian remarked in a chiding voice, "Oh Lelouch, what would you do without me?"

* * *

**Unknown Location Within Space Station _Ikaruga  
_****One Hundred Twenty Hours From Holy Terra**

Nunnally's eyes shot open as she winced slightly. She turned towards the others, probably suffering from headaches similar to her own at the moment.

"Did you feel that? Something's moving through the Warp, trying to push its way into real space. Something massive, and it's not just Abaddon's fleet."

The other three immediately nodded.

"The battle for Terra is already beginning. Battle Fleet Ultima is buckling under the Chaos vanguard, and the main body has yet to arrive. I doubt even Battle Fleet Solar could stand up to the main fleet for very long."

Kallen was the first to speak, "Even if they could, there's no way we'll arrive in time to make a difference. Should we use it?"

"Ideally, we won't have to reveal it until the out main fleet has arrived in the system. At this rate, there won't be a system by the time we arrive. The _Avalon_ and its squadron are the closest ships to Terra, and they're over ninety hours away," Suzaku added.

Some token argument continued back and forth for the next few minutes, with CC looking on impassively as always. It was already infinitely clear that they needed to play that particular card to allow the Imperium a fighting chance, but the Black Knights didn't survive undetected for so long by not discussing alternate courses of action.

With a consensus reached, Nunnally closed her eyes, focusing her psychic power.

* * *

**Inquisitorial Fortress, the Rings of Saturn  
****Terra System**

The Inquisitorial fortress of Saturn prided itself in its secrecy and security. Home of the secret Grey Knights chapter and some of the most dangerous Chaos artifacts in Imperial hands, the Great Enemy had searched for the fortress in vain for millennia. The Inquisition boasted amongst itself that nothing around Saturn escaped their attention. They were wrong.

Deep in the bowels of Saturn's atmosphere, an ancient craft, a fabled relic of the Dark Age of Technology, awoke from its twenty thousand year slumber. The long-empty ship shook as its Machine Spirit bought long-unused systems back to working order. The plasma thrusters, the legs of thevessel, simmered to life. A few experimental test firings confirmed them as in working order. The ship hummed as its weapons batteries, the fists of the vessel, warmed up. Had any Imperial sensors been tuned to the right frequency, they would have sensed the vessel's sensor bursts, as the vessel tested its eyes.

Those still aboard the Inquisitorial fortress looked in awe as a streak of light emerged from the atmosphere of Saturn. Several volleys from the defensive batteries were fired, but the streak moved far too quickly. It soon became a speck in the distance, heading out to aid its besieged brethren of Battle Fleet Ultima.

* * *

  
**Unknown Location Within Space Station _Ikaruga  
_****One Hundred Twenty Hours From Holy Terra**

Nunnally opened her eyes again, a bit faint from the psychic energy she had just poured into that beacon. She had kept the connection up until she confirmed everything had gone according to plan. Taking a breath and withdrawing the excess psychic energy back into her mind, she turned towards the others.

"It is done. The _Damocles_ rises again."

* * *

A\N: A hopefully humorous omake this time. Sorry if you find this joke lame, but it's just too perfect.

**Omake: Fun With the Emperor's Tarot**

The Ecclesiarch wasn't sure what compelled him to draw another card, but he did so anyway. His faith ensured protection from the Ruinous Powers, and his fortress guards exhaustively searched anyone entering and leaving the fortress. Was the Emperor trying to communicate a message to them? Was it a message so profound that it necessitated altering the Tarot?

He was given quite a few looks when the card was turned over. The Inquisitorial representative looked like he suspected heresy, and the others looked like he was crazy. Turning the card so he could see it, the Ecclesiarch saw red. Whoever did this was going to _pay_.

Depicted on the card was a human male, perhaps twenty or thirty, with short orange hair. With a black-and-white striped sweater and a dark-colored jacket, the human was motioning in front of a microphone, moving his arms in gestures that probably passed for dancing on some hive world or another. No whispers in the back of his head told him the identity of this card.

Taking a closer look, the Ecclesiarch was nearly shocked unconscious when noise emanated from the card. It was some happy, upbeat tune that he found strangely catchy. He began to bob his head to the music, and the other High Lords were joining in. The Cardinals looked on in confusion, unsure of what to do. Then the singing began.

_Never gonna give you up!  
__Never gonna let you down!  
__Never gonna run around and desert you!  
__Never gonna make you cry!  
__Never gonna say goodbye!  
__Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!_

The head-bobbing suddenly stopped. All the High Lords had a feeling some huge joke had been played on them.

Meanwhile in the Warp, three Psykers of incomprehensible power devolved into uncontrollable laughter. They just stood there, leaning against one another for mutual support as the hysteria passed through their systems.

"Just as planned," Tzeentch remarked while rubbing his hands together, being the first to recover, before devolving into villainous cackling.

"I've wanted to do that for years," the Emperor added, still laughing hysterically as he wiped a tear from his eye.

The Guardian chuckled, "I knew you had a sense of humor, Tzeentchie."

The Emperor immediately stopped laughing, turning towards the Chaos god with a raised eyebrow, "Tzeentchie?"

Tzeentch looked horrified, "Not as planned! Not as planned!"

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Never Gonna Give You Up." Rick Astley has that honor.


	4. Chapter Three: Flight of the Damocles

******A/N: **I'm still alive. Just very, very busy. Anyways, here we go!

******Disclaimer:** In this particular reality, I do not own Warhammer 40k or Code Geass.

**Chapter Three: Flight of the **_**Damocles**_

**Black Knights Destroyer **_**Avalon  
**_**Seventy-Two Hours From Holy Terra**

The _Avalon_ was one of the few ships in the Black Knights fleet to have an Orbital Planetary Assault Wing permanently assigned to it. The destroyer was small and nimble, its low mass allowing it to enter and exit the Warp with little difficulty, while still being large enough to operate independently from the main fleet for extended periods of time. Ships such as the _Avalon_ nearly always made up the first wave of any Black Knights campaign, quickly dispatching enemy patrols and depositing troops onto the ground while the larger and more powerful capital ship were still en route.

The _Avalon_ gave off a sickly green glow as it sped towards Holy Terra, courtesy of recent Warp drive upgrades. While its FLEIJA volleys had quite handily blown the Scythe-class harvest ship to pieces over Deneb, enough of the ship survived for the ground forces to recover several fragments of its inertialess drive. Their best scientists could extract nothing but the most basic operating principles from the fragments, but even that proved enough to make the already-fast vessel even faster. In just the last twenty-four hours, the _Avalon_ had covered more distance than it previously could have in a week and could execute jumps with even an even greater degree of safety and precision.

Even then, the trip would take nearly a week, and the crew was determined to make the most out of it. Their days were spent in endless drills, honing their skills and reactions. Being able to put a volley of FLEIJA warheads on target five minutes after exiting the Warp was no longer good enough: they would need to get it down to three and a half. The Imperial Twilight, as many of the crew had taken to calling the campaign, would undoubtedly prove to be the toughest campaign the Black Knights had faced in millennia. Chaos ships weren't as advanced or as powerful as Necron designs, but their crews, undoubtedly motivated by the promises of endless power and blessings from their dark gods, would not hesitate to use their ships as battering rams when their weapons proved ineffective. The _Avalon_ was a tough ship, but colliding with several kilometers of adamantium could still hurt it severely.

If the crew of the _Avalon_ was nervous, though, the OPAW unit stationed aboard was even more so. OPAW units were kept small to facilitate rapid response times, but that also meant that they were almost always outnumbered by their enemies. The few times they had faced the forces of Chaos, they had fought against overambitious warlords with no idea of what they were facing. This time, they were up against the near-infinite hordes of the Despoiler. The first twenty-four hours after landing would determine the fate of the Imperium, and every minute had to count. The _Avalon_ had an entire deck dedicated to the OPAW unit, and the soldiers wasted no time in converting a bulk of it into a battlefield.

The sight of an entire Orbital Planetary Assault Wing conducting combat maneuvers on the disembarkation deck was impressive, to say the least. Even the fact that their hadron carbines were dialed down to the level of oversized laser pointers, as to avoid damaging the _Avalon_ or each other, did nothing to diminish the effect. Cherry-red bolts crisscrossed the cavernous chamber as the members of the 5th OPAW honed their skills against one another. Nobody had any idea exactly what to expect when they arrived at Terra except for chaotic, close-quarters combat. Crates were strategically stacked all around the chamber to simulate the tight confines of an Imperial hive city. The lights were dimmed, to simulate low-visibility and night conditions.

The air waves were saturated with chatter that would prove bewildering to the outsider, consisting almost entirely of abbreviations and alphanumerical designations. Team cohesion was absolutely critical in the small OPAW units, and getting information quickly to where it is needed comprised a huge part of that. The gibberish exchanged between the OPAW troopers was designed to be as information-dense as possible, saving precious seconds by eliminating extraneous parts of speech.

The OPAW officers overseeing the exercise were suitable impressed, seeing all the destructive potential coiled within an OPAW trooper let loose. They held no illusions of an easy victory, however. No matter how well the operation went, many of the men and women firing at once another down below would return to the fleet in body bags.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Glorious  
**_**Outskirts of Terra System**

The Inquisitor watched from the bridge of the _Glorious_ as a nearby Luna-class cruiser took one hit too many. The ship went dark, spinning through space for a second before its plasma reactors overloaded. A new star was born in the midst of Battle Fleet Ultima, before quickly burning out and dissipating. The Navy could always transfer some personnel from the _Emperor's Vengeance_ and recruit some hivers from Terra or Mars to make up the difference, but the ship itself… Part of him winced at the amount of technology lost: that particular cruiser was easily a thousand years old, and built with techniques and materials long since lost to the Mechanicum.

The battle fleet was making an admirable show of itself, holding out despite the enormous odds against them. Along with the Ultramarines chapter fleet, they only numbered seventy-five ships in total. The enemy vanguard consisted of twice that amount, many built with a technology base superior to the one currently possessed by the Imperium, and the Navigator had detected a much larger fleet, perhaps as many as a thousand ships, behind it. There were few doubts that an even larger main fleet was just behind, perhaps even under the leadership of the Despoiler himself. The Inquisitor muttered a prayer to the Emperor as he contemplated the situation.

He watched as a Dominator-class cruiser fired its Nova Cannon into the thick of the enemy fleet, blowing one Chaos vessel clean in half and ripping a huge chunk out of another's stern. It proceeded at flanking speed, quickly imposing itself between two Chaos cruisers and unleashed a brutal broadside with its short-ranged plasma batteries. The Chaos weapons batteries peppered its hull as one of the cruisers spun away, gaping holes torn into its left flank. An adjacent frigate attempted evasive action, but was just a moment too slow, the out-of-control hulk slicing it clean in half. The enemy second cruiser lasted a little longer, but it was clear that the Imperial vessel had taken a few good hits itself. Its return fire was steadily slacking off, and an adjacent ship rushed to assist the besieged Dominator.

A squadron of Chaos destroyers swooped in from the upper plane, emptying their forward torpedo batteries into the rapidly-failing ship as the cruiser it was dueling spun away, leaking atmosphere. The outdated Tyrant class-cruiser, a class that had fallen out of favor in the thirty-ninth millennium due to its lack of long-range firepower, that had rushed to assist the Dominator arrived just a moment too late. Its plasma batteries managed to destroy two of the Chaos destroyers, and disable a third, before the ship was knock off-course by debris from the destroyed Imperial cruiser.

All throughout the confused jumble of ships and attack craft and debris, the Inquisitor could make out the occasional flashes of explosions. Several ships had pulled up alongside one another, probably teleporting troops onto the other ship in hopes of finishing it off. He could see several pinpricks of light as a trio of light cruisers made an ill-fated charge at the Desolator-class battleship. None of them even got close before the enemy ship's defensive guns ripped them to shreds. The few torpedoes they were able to offload beforehand did little more than annoy the monster.

A fast-moving streak of light caught the Inquisitor's attention. _Nothing_ the Imperium currently possessed, or at least anything he knew of, moved that quickly. The crew of the _Glorious_ seemed to have noticed the object as well, as he could feel the slight rumble in the deck plates as the Oberon-class battleship swung its massive hull around to greet the new threat. He could sense as the captain's voice took on an undertone of panic as the gunnery station reported the object moving far too quickly for the logic engines to calculate a firing solution. Five unsuccessful attempts later, the captain ordered the gunnery crews to simply saturate the area with weapons fire, in hopes of hitting the thing.

* * *

_**Damocles**_** (Design Unknown)  
****Fifteen Minutes from Battle Fleet Ultima**

The _Damocles_ continued on its course, steadily counting down the seconds until it would be in firing range. All the while, it performed damage checks on itself: the time it had spent submerged in the atmosphere of Saturn had not been kind. Most of its vital systems were intact, and absence of a crew allowed for the diverting of power from life support to other systems. The ship wasn't sure what reactivated it, but it knew its mission. Humanity was under siege, and it needed to buy time. Time for what, it didn't know.

The battle at the edge of the system was intense enough that the _Damocles_ could sense it from the orbit of Saturn via energy signatures. None of the signatures matched up with the data in its computers, and the IFF signals were valid, but absent from its registry. How long had it slept? Its chronometers had been one of the first systems to be knocked out of commission, though from the positions of the stars, it could extrapolate that something to the order of twenty thousand years had passed. Twenty thousand years, and some of the designs seemed to be of a lower level of technology than its time.

One of the ships in the distance gradually swung around, exposing one of its broad flanks to the _Damocles_. The ship continued on its course, the other ship having taken no aggressive action yet. Even then, the _Damocles_ began to calculate a firing solution: from that sort of distance, even hitting a target several kilometers across was a chore. When the ship started firing, the _Damocles_ began to assess the threat. Most of the weapons fire seemed to be defensive in nature, mostly mass drivers and lasers, and of too short a range to hit the _Damocles_ from that sort of distance. A sensor echo indicated large, hollow spaces inside the other ship, marking it as possibly a fighter carrier type.

The _Damocles_ regarded the other ship with indifference. From that sort of distance, its weapons batteries had little hope of hitting a target as small as the _Damocles_. The indifference faded away somewhat when the other ship opened up with what appeared to be its primary batteries: high-powered beam weapons that the _Damocles_ hardly avoided. Even with the vast gulf in technology—the _Damocles_ could have easily made such a shot with its own weapons—there was no doubt that a few solid hits from those beams could damage the _Damocles_.

The distance to the enemy fleet was rapidly closing, as power surged through the _Damocles_' weapons, bringing ancient technologies never seen since the Dark Age of Technology humming to life. The battle had evolved into a chaotic jumble of ships, but the battle lines were still quite clearly drawn. Had any living crewmembers been aboard, they would have heard the subtle whirring sound as the Damocles built up its plasma stores, which would be fired out at the enemy in long streams. There was a clanking sound on some of the forward compartments, as breacher torpedoes were hoisted into firing tubes.

The _Damocles_ decelerated at a pace that would have sent any crewmembers flying out of their seats. The great streams of plasma being poured into the engines reduced in volume, enough to keep the ship at combat velocities. The slow-down bought it time to identify and analyze its targets.

* * *

The first thing the Inquisitor noticed was that the rapidly-approaching object was a ship. It had finally slowed down enough for the sensor array to get a decent image, and it was quite unlike anything he'd ever seen before. For one, it was small, maybe a third of the size of a destroyer at most. What it lacked in size, it certainly seemed to make up for in speed, as the thing had closed from outer sensor range to firing range in a matter of minutes. It flew closer and closer to the _Glorious_, until the Inquisitor was certain that it intended to ram them. At the last moment, the smaller ship veered away, becoming little more than a blur as it made its way towards the Chaos fleet.

The Inquisitor watched the smaller vessel as it made its doubtlessly-suicidal rush towards the Chaos fleet. The design was nothing like modern Imperial warships: part of him dared to hope that it was some lost design from the fabled Great Crusade, or even the mythical Dark Age of Technology, if such an age of wonders ever even truly existed. Even if that were true, what chance would one ship possible have against…

His train of thought cut off as he noticed the ever-present background chatter had stopped. Turning around, he quickly focused on the hololith that had captured everyone's attention. An Imperial ship was close enough to the new arrival to see it in action, and had distributed footage to the other ships in the fleet. The bridge crew of the _Glorious_ watched as the new ship inverted itself, diving towards a traitor Armageddon-class cruiser.

The enemy cruiser put up a furious barrage of weapons fire, but the smaller ship simply moved too fast for an effective lock-on. Some lucky shots peppered the smaller vessel's shields, but to no apparent effect. The traitor vessel began some belated evasive maneuvers, but it was already far too late. Several beams lanced out from the smaller vessel, pounding its shields with long, thin streams of plasma. The Armageddon's shields flashed for a few seconds, straining to absorb the impact, before finally flickering out with the fourth hit. The fifth beam pierced the ship all the way through, and a sixth blew the ship in half.

The crew was silent as they digested what they had just seen. Whatever that new arrival was, it had just taken out a traitor cruiser in five hits, using weaponry of incomprehensible technology. The feed continued, as the smaller ship quickly twisted around, rocketing away from the wreckage of the traitor Armageddon as it fired a full spread of torpedoes at a nearby Lunar-class. That particular vessel was apparently a fresh convert to Chaos, the only markings of its new allegiance being a few sloppily-painted Khornate symbols. The torpedoes punched straight through the shields and impacted the armor directly. Several torpedoes were shot down by defensive fire, but the second spread put the ship down.

* * *

**Chaos Battleship **_**Eternal Carnage  
**_**Fifteen Minutes After the **_**Damocles**_**' Appearance**

The Chaos Warmaster stood impassively in front of the hololith, his many thralls giving him a wide berth. It didn't take a psyker to sense the waves of pure anger and frustration emanating from him. The violence contained within his corrupted Astartes physique seemed poised to be released, and nobody wanted to be near him when it was. He had been given nearly two hundred ships, and ordered by Abaddon the Despoiler himself to clear the way for the main fleet! He'd been so close! Such paltry resistance, then a single ship arrives and ruins it all!

What was it, some sort of new Imperial design? He quickly ruled that possibility as impossible. Those dogmatic fools in the Mechanicum were too absorbed in their old ways to ever think up anything so advanced. Perhaps it was an STC artifact? But then why would the Imperium wait so long to play such a card? Nothing fit! He was snapped out of his concentration by a distinct snapping sound. Looking down, he saw handrail that had bent under his rip finally broken. A slight squeak alerted him to the thrall cowering on the ground behind him, his forehead practically touching the ground. He let the thrall sweat for a little while longer before acknowledging him.

"My-my lord. T-t-two s-sh-shi-ships w-w-were j-ju-just d-de-destroyed."

The Warmaster mulled over the news for a second, and he could see the thrall's shoulders sag in relief at the prospect of being allowed to live. No luck. With a roar of rage, he picked up the thrall by the neck, taking some satisfaction of the thrall's gasping and struggling for breath. He let the pitiful creature struggle for just a moment longer before snapping his neck with a swift motion of his fingers. He left the lifeless body fall to the ground, feeling much calmer than he was before. He turned around to the rest of the bridge crew.

"What are you doing? Get back to work!" he roared.

His crew couldn't comply fast enough. It was probably more due to his twitching towards his bolt pistol than what little loyalty his crew possessed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied another blue triangle on the hololith winking out, no doubt due to that accursed new arrival. Whatever it was, though, it couldn't possibly take on the first invasion wave, some one thousand ships strong. Should the Warp currents be favorable, the armada would arrive within one hundred and ten hours.

Turning back towards the hololith display, he barked an attack order to the thrall at the helm before ordering the communications thrall to signal the fleet to do the same.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Glorious  
**_**Ten Hours After the **_**Damocles**_**' Appearance**

The bridge crew of the _Glorious_ devolved in clapping and cheering and the Inquisitor could sense that similar scenes were playing out all over the fleet. The hololith told the reason why: the swarm of red triangles was at barely half its initial size, and was currently retreating into the Warp. The captain of the _Glorious_ shot a nervous sideways glance at the Inquisitor, unsure at what he was going to do in response to such a lack of discipline. The Inquisitor turned his head, allowing a reassuring smile to surface.

"Captain, your men have won a great victory today, and deserve a moment's celebration. The Chaos fleet is on the retreat," the Inquisitor reassured him, giving the captain a firm handshake as he did so.

Taking a sidelong glance at the hololith, he noticed the mysterious ship holding steady several kilometers from the _Glorious_. His eyes widened as picts from a reconnaissance squadron appeared over the sensor readout: it was pitted and scratched and faded, but he could still recognize the malformed trident painted on the ship.

He turned towards the captain once again, "I want a boarding party prepared. Until further notice, the investigation of that ship falls under the jurisdiction of the Ordos Xenos."

* * *

_**Damocles**_** (Design Unknown)  
****Twelve Hours After Initial Appearance**

The empty halls of the _Damocles_ were suddenly lit up with teleporter flashes as a Terminator Assault Squad materialized. The ten Terminators fanned out, the hallways surprisingly wide wide enough for them to pass through without scraping the walls or ceiling. The Inquisitor aboard the _Glorious_ had given them an emergency briefing: the malformed trident had been sighted across the galaxy recently, and the insignia's owners seemed to be fighting, and winning, multiple battles against Orks, Tyranids, and even Necrons. Needless to say, the High Lords of Terra and the Inquisition were _very_ interested.

The ship was small, at barely a hundred meters in length, and the Assault Terminators covered very quickly. The ship's lights flickered at times, and some portions showed signs of great age, but they could still tell that the technology used to construct the ship was far superior to that of the Imperium. Logic engines of an unknown pattern drove much of the ship, and the crew could not have numbered more than a few hundred at most. The ship's design had the same clean lines as Eldar designs, but the visible signs of high technology associated with the Tau. Yet, there was a distinctly human feel to it as well.

The majority of the ship was pronounced clear of hostiles within four hours, and the Inquisitor arrived via teleportarium shortly after. Two Enginseers flanked him, accompanied by a large number of servitors. The Mechanicum would no doubt want to see what technologies could be reverse-engineered from the ship, should it prove to be an STC artifact. The Enginseers practically salivated over all the secrets such a ship might hold. If such a ship could be duplicated, they could push Chaos back into the Eye of Terror and extend the borders of the Imperium further than ever before.

The Enginseers and their respective retinues left for other parts of the ship, accompanied by the Assault Terminators, no doubt to glean technological secrets from the ship's myriad systems. The Inquisitior, however, was more interested in the bridge. The Terminator Assault Squad had given up trying to open the blast doors, and were about to use a melta bomb to breach them, when they slid open on their own. The bridge was cleanly-designed and uncluttered and brightly lit. The seats behind the consoles were large enough to comfortably seat a Custodes, but only a particularly lanky, unaugmented human could have comfortably sat in the command throne.

The details of the bridge escaped both the Inquisitor and the Assault Terminators, who were instead focused on the banners flanking the door. One had long since crumbled to dust, leaving only a dark shape on the wall to prove its existence. The other was crumbling, but the lightning bolt was unmistakable. This ship was the _Damocles_, the Emperor's own command ship, though lost before the Great Crusade.

* * *

**Edge of the Terra System  
****Fifty-Four Hours Later**

The exact identity of the "new" ship as none other than the Emperor's command ship was quickly and easily suppressed by the Inquisition: the official story passed it off as an STC artifact recently uncovered and restored, and those aware of its true identity were too loyal to reveal what they knew. Even if they did speak up, the fact would have been buried under preparations for the second Chaos assault. For the next six hours, the shattered remnants of the Chaos vanguard conducted hit-and-run attacks, culminating in an all-out assault on the newly-reinforced Battle Fleet Ultima. The _Damocles_ forced its way through the enemy fleet and heavily damaged the Chaos battleship _Eternal Carnage_, forcing the enemy to retreat.

The Chaos objective, it seemed, was no long to break the Imperial defenses, but to destroy the _Damocles_. Should the deceptively-small juggernaut be destroyed, the defenders' morale would plummet, making Battle Fleet Ultima easy pickings. The Battle Fleet, once a desperate provisional arrangement, now stood between Chaos and Holy Terra, desperately buying time for Battle Fleet Solar, scattered throughout what portions of the Segmentum remained in Imperial hands, to regroup. That slim chance of survival was dashed when a much larger Chaos fleet, nearly a thousand vessels, was detected approaching the opposite side of the system. The last two days had been spent trying to move Battle Fleet Ultima across the system, and several ships had been lost when their engines overloaded from the strain.

The fleet had hardly fallen into formation when the first wave, nearly two hundred ships, dropped out of the Warp. The opening salvoes did little in the ways of damaging the other side: they served only to force the enemy out of their carefully-planned formations. The _Damocles_ surged forward, its fearsome torpedoes and beam weapons carving a swath of destruction through the Chaos fleet. Clouds of attack craft and interceptors engaged one another as bombers attempted to carry out attack runs on the larger ships. Despite being exhausted, the crews of Battle Fleet Ultima fought ferociously, knowing that the next few hours could make all the difference: ships of the mighty Battle Fleet Solar were slowly tricking into the system, but the oldest and mightiest of Battle Fleets was so large that it would take days to account for every ship.

The outnumbered and outgunned Battle Fleet, aided by the Ultramarines chapter fleet, held the line for several hours, even gaining ground at some points. The surprise flanking maneuver by the Grey Knights chapter fleet sent morale soaring, and some dared to hope that they would not only survive, but win the battle. The arrival of the second wave of Chaos ships, an addition three hundred twenty vessels, including a trio of Desolator-class vessels accompanied by a Despoiler-class, dashed those hopes.

The masses of attack craft and weapons fire launched by the new arrivals ripped through the Imperial defenders, destroying ships left and right. The few elements of Battle Fleet Solar currently in the system raced to the scene, but even the closest elements were at least five hours away. Even the most optimistic gave Battle Fleet Ultima only thirty minutes at most with the current rate of attrition. Several ships attempted to close in and launch torpedoes in a last-ditch attempt to cripple the vessels, or engage them at extreme ranges with their lance batteries, but the volume of firepower actually striking them was negligible.

The Chaos vessels especially concentrated on the _Damocles_, compensating for their lack of accuracy with sheer volume of firepower. Anti-ship torpedoes nearly as long as the ship itself slammed into its shields. It sped through the Chaos fleet, going as far as ramming several vessels. Its torpedo bays nearly depleted, the _Damocles_ switched to its beam weapons, inflicting frightening damage. Closing in on the closest Desolator, the _Damocles_ made several high-speed attack runs, peppering the behemoth's shields with its weapons. The Chaos ships around the Desolator ironically did more damage to the ship with their weapons fire than the _Damocles_ itself. Several well-placed beams broke the Desolator's keel, causing it to snap in half. The bow half plowed straight into the Despoiler-class, triggering a plasma reactor explosion that destroyed both ships.

The _Damocles_ was accelerating towards the second Desolator when its formidable shields finally flickered and died. Lances and torpedoes began impacting the ship's unprotected hull, disabling subsystems and collapsing bulkheads. The ship was too far along its attack run to disengage and wait for its shields to recharge: it pumped more energy into its engines, diving towards the Desolator-class ship. As weapons fire blew away great chunks of its hull, the _Damocles_ launched the last of its torpedoes.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Glorious  
**_**Outskirts of Terra System**

The Inquisitor watched as the _Damocles_ scored three confirmed kills: two Desolator-class vessels and one Despoiler-class. Even though the Enginseers eventually concluded that the technology was too far beyond their comprehension to reverse-engineer, the vessel had proved their trump card during the battle. The bridge crew let out a few restrained cheers at the news. Those conservative cheers turned into outright despair as the armor of the _Damocles_ began cracking. Miniature explosions erupted all over its hull, before the vessels' reactors went critical. A tiny star was born, burned brightly for mere seconds, and then flickered out.

The final hope of Holy Terra's salvation was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry! No omake today! I originally wanted to do a report to the Inquisiton regarding wreckage found at Deneb, but I couldn't make it flow properly, so I scrapped it.


	5. Chapter Four: The Cavalry Arrives

**A/N: **Sorry about the lack of updates. Real life stuff came up. Most prominently, the AP Blitz. Sorry about the funky formatting. For some reason or another, the site keeps on trying to "correct" it. In other words, it's messing it up.

**Chapter Four: The Cavalry Arrives**

**Black Knights Destroyer **_**Avalon  
**_**One Hour From Holy Terra**

The stacks of crates once chaotically strewn around the hangar deck had been arranged in orderly rows as the members of the 5th OPAW used them as impromptu workbenches. The several hours before the assault were used for final inspections on their armor and equipment, with the more experienced members of the OPAW aiding the newer members in their tasks. Normally, such a task would have been accompanied by much laughter, often at the expense of the more junior members, as they were sent off to find nonexistent equipment or forms. That joking was absent this time around: everyone grasped the full gravity of the situation. This was the real thing, and even the tiniest equipment defect could spell a fiery death as they plunged through the atmosphere or as they fought groundside.

The sound of klaxons caused the OPAW members to hurry their final inspections as they were bathed in a low red light. The few OPAW troopers still outside of their Knightmares hurriedly climbed into the two and-a-half-meter battle suits, hurrying through final diagnostics. Specks of green flashed through the deck as Knightmares came online. In the dim red light, their utter silence and momentarily-flashing green eyes gave them an unnerving resemblance to the Necrons. The men and women in the Knightmares disappeared under layers of armor. Soundlessly and with near-perfect synchrony, they assembled into their units for a last-minute roll-call.

"Attention all hands, Condition One now in effect. ETA to Earth is forty-five minutes and counting. All hands stand by at battle stations. All OPAW units report to drop bay."

The OPAW drop bay was a small chamber at the bottom of the ship designed exclusively for rapid deployment of Orbital Planetary Assault Wings. It was small and cramped, but could deploy an entire OPAW, one hundred twenty men and women, in less than ten minutes. The two armored blast doors, located on opposite sides of the chamber, noiselessly slid open as one hundred twenty OPAW members filed in. Preparation for the drop was as much-rehearsed as the drop itself, and was nearly reflexive for most members of the OPAW.

Each OPAW member patted his or her neighbor on the back, both as a gesture of reassurance and as a final check. Their energy wings needed to be tightly folded up in order to fit the heat shields over them. Hatches lowered from the ceiling as the knapsack-sized grey heat shields were lowered to the OPAW members. Though additional protection against the enormous heat of re-entry was unnecessary, their effectiveness at slowing down a Knightmare's descent through the atmosphere was undeniable. A series of metallic _clang_s echoed throughout the chamber as hadron carbines were secured to torso armor.

"ETA to Earth is thirty minutes and counting."

* * *

**Space Station **_**Ikaruga  
**_**Twenty-Four Hours From Holy Terra**

General Suzaku Kururugi, head of the Black Knights Military Arm, circled his personal Knightmare several times as it stood, inactive. Hunched over, its back open to reveal the interior, it was difficult to believe that the device in front of him was one of the deadliest weapons of war in the galaxy. The Lancelot-Seraph, named after the Knightmare he'd piloted against the original Black Knights back on Earth all those millennia ago. Sheathed at its flanks were the two Force Swords that carved up Necron Monoliths with frightening ease. Clipped onto the back was a hadron assault weapon system that could reduce a Carnifax to ribbons in a matter of seconds.

Suzaku circled around the Knightmare once more before stepping into it. He could feel the cold sensation even through his jumpsuit as the psycho-crystalline layer molded to the contours of his lower body. A tingling raced up his spine as the psychic-conductive material synched up with his psychic abilities. He stood straight, arms outspread, as the top half of the Lancelot swung up to meet him. He flexed his fingers experimentally as the psycho-crystalline layer adapted to the contours of his upper body and the armor of the Lancelot flowed together, creating a smooth, unbroken surface.

As the back of the helmet closed, Suzaku's vision temporarily went black before his holographic display blinked to life. His initial view of his quarters was in various shades of red, before the onboard computer hurriedly added the other seven colors of the spectrum. Words blinked past the corner of his eye at blinding speeds as the suit ran startup diagnostics, finally concluding with a "LANCELOT-SERAPH ONLINE" flashing in Suzaku's field of vision.

Taking a few steps, the Lancelot-Seraph responded to Suzaku's inputs with such speed and precision that one would be forgiven to think that he was the Knightmare, not merely its pilot. As Suzaku made his way up to the _Ikaruga_'s bridge, he passed formations of other Knightmares, of the Archangel type, the standard-issue Knightmare for the Black Knights Military Arm. It wasn't hard to deduce that the Black Knights were now on a war footing, if the last few days hadn't been any clue. The full-time soldiers of the OPAW were all upgraded to ready status, and the part-time citizen-soldiers that made up the rest of the Military Arm were hurriedly being mustered. The last time the Black Knights had ever witnessed such a flurry of activity was during the Third Necrotic War, but not on the scale being witnessed at the present.

CC, Kallen, and Nunnally were already at the bridge when Suzaku finally stepped through the blast doors. Last-minute adjustments were being made to their plan of attack, as evidenced by the holographic map of the Sol system currently projected in the middle of the bridge. This campaign would be like nothing they'd ever seen before: bloody, chaotic, close-quarters combat to fight for the system street by street, level by level, hive by hive. Casualty estimates were already far too high for anyone's tastes, and the estimate only kept on climbing.

"The Mechanicum's war factories on Mars," Kallen motions towards the planet on the map, "are doubtlessly one of the Chaos fleet's main targets. They could take out most of the Imperium's remaining industrial capacity and their Titan legions at the same time. I could take several divisions and an OPAW or two down there and establish a defensive perimeter."

"What concerns me the most," Suzaku began as he zoomed in on Earth, "is the defense of Earth itself. The defensive stations around the moon aren't in any position to do much good, and there's too much ground to defend it all. By now, the planet's bound to be one giant hive, and even if we confine ourselves to only the most defensible positions, we'll still be stretched thin…"

"There's still the issue of the Despoiler's fleet," Nunnally interjected, "which we have yet to locate. Intelligence indicates that it's more than enough to overwhelm the defenses around Earth, and I doubt Abbadon will make the same mistakes as Horus..."

"Ma'am," a communications officer interrupted her, "we've received word from the _Avalon_. They've arrived at the Sol system."

* * *

**Black Knights Destroyer **_**Avalon  
**_**Outskirts of Terra System**

"Forward hadron cannons charged and ready to fire!"

"FLEIJA tubes one through four loaded and ready to fire!"

"Helm, take us at flanking speed around the back of the Chaos fleet! Don't smack into their ships, now!"

Orders and counter-orders were shouted across the _Avalon_'s bridge as the ship finally dropped back into real space. Even before the sickly green glow had fully dissipated, the _Avalon_'s weapons were hurriedly identifying targets and calculating firing solutions. Were it not been for the dramatic entrance, the _Avalon_ and its escorts would have gone unnoticed, being absolutely tiny in comparison to the monolithic ships currently slugging it out.

"Fire control, I want the forward hadron batteries ready to fire at medium dispersion on my mark! Helm, hard to port fifteen degrees, elevation twenty-three degrees!"

The fire control computers of the _Avalon_'s forward-mounted hadron cannons had already calculated the same firing solution moments ago, but the _Avalon_'s captain did not spare a glance at the readout. His sheer experience rendered such an action a formality at most. He was a hundred twenty years old, nearly middle-aged by Black Knights standards, and eighty of those years were spent commanding the _Avalon_. He stayed with the small Avalon-class destroyer, even though most agreed that he could easily secure command of a Yggdrasil-class dreadnought. Those eighty years aboard the _Avalon_ allowed him to know the ship, and all of its quirks, well.

The _Avalon_ twisted around in space, swinging its long hull around to face the thickest part of the Chaos fleet. The trio of frigates accompanying it, spotting the tell-tale dull red glow at the _Avalon_'s bow, quickly moved behind the _Avalon_, outside of its firing arc. The Chaos and Imperial fleets, still furiously engaging one another, nevertheless kept a wary eye on the new arrival. The glow around the _Avalon_'s bow grew progressively larger and brighter. While the Imperial and Chaos fleets still pondered what the glow actually was, the _Avalon_'s main batteries fired.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Glorious  
**_**Edge of the Terra System**

If it hadn't been for that sickly green glow radiating out from the area, nobody would have paid the new pinpricks of light any mind. They were small, the largest barely half the length of the tiniest escort. All activity stopped the moment the green flash was spotted. A single word ran through the minds of all those in the know: Necrons. Nobody forgot the sickly green glow of a Necron inertialess drive once they saw it, assuming they survived the encounter. The Imperium was at its weakest: they had no hope of fighting off a Necron incursion. The lack of psychic signatures aboard the vessels cemented the fact in their minds.

This time, no ships were close enough to capture pict data, so dots on the auspex were the best anyone had. The crew of the _Glorious_ watched, not even daring to breathe, as the grey dots slowly shifted positions. The largest one seemed to be subtly altering its course, coming to a full stop at the end. The other three dots subtly shifted their positions, putting the larger dot between them and the combined Chaos and Imperial fleet. While gun crews still slaved away on the lower decks, loading and firing the massive weapons batteries at the Chaos ships, the bridge crew merely wondered why the Necron ship hadn't opened fire already.

A massive wave of crimson streaked with black emanated from the lead ship, making its way with surprising speed towards the Chaos fleet lines. Both the captain and the Inquisitor's eyes went wide as the former roared an order to evade. The massive hull of the _Glorious_ swung itself around, struggling to haul itself out of the weapon's line of fire. The only way to describe the devastation they were now witnessing was a Nova Cannon on 'slaught. Entire Chaos warships were instantly incinerated as the weapon easily ripped through their shields. The evasive maneuvers, it turned out, were unnecessary, as the wave lost sufficient coherency only a few hundred kilometers behind the Chaos rear lines to render them harmless. Despite the apparent lack of range, fifteen ships in one shot was nothing to scoff at.

"Praise to the Emperor if they are allies. Emperor protect us if they are not," the Inquisitor muttered, vocalizing the thoughts of everyone else on the bridge.

* * *

**Chaos Battleship **_**Eternal Carnage  
**_**Edge of the Terra System**

The Warmaster calmly stood in front of the hololith, arms clasped behind his back. Nobody doubted that he internally seethed with rage, with many thralls barely resisting the urge to run out of the bridge. That new Imperial weapon had ravaged his fleet while taking nary a scratch. He felt a spark of fear as he remembered the beams that had punched through void shields as if they were nothing, or the torpedoes that disregarded them entirely. It had taken the combine firepower of four battleships and numerous support ships to bring it down, and now, the Imperium apparently had four more, possibly built to even higher design specifications.

Where was the Imperium getting the technology to build such ships? If they weren't building them, had they perhaps found some weapons cache from the fabled Dark Age of Technology? Perhaps these ships were not Imperial, but instead belonged to a currently-unknown third party? If that were true, and if a ship that small could inflict such frightening damage, he dreaded to imagine what their larger ships could do.

"My lord! The ships have entered the Warp! We cannot find a psychic signature!"

The Warmaster roared in frustration, rapidly plodding his way towards the unfortunate thrall. The pathetic creature threw up his arms out of reflex, as if such a pitiful gesture could protect him from the blows of a Traitor Astartes. The Warmaster towered over him as he cowered in his seat. His hand twitched slightly, before beginning to turn away, apparently thinking better of it. The thrall breathed in relief, before a vicious backhand separated his head from his body. The severed head hit the wall and bounced off before rolling to a stop, an expression of horror permanently etched in its features.

"My lord! The enemy ships have reappeared on auspex scans! They are firing torpedoes!"

The Warmaster roared again, turning his sights onto the speaker. Before he could move, a terrific force rocked the _Eternal Carnage_ from stem to stern. Looking outside, he noticed what appeared to be a series of light purple stars forming amongst the fleet. Those purple stars turned into slowly-expanding pink spheres, some large enough to encompass a hive city, punching through the shields of those unlucky enough to be in the blast radius to disintegrate the armor underneath. What were these weapons? His fleet was entirely helpless against them!

The Warmaster's eyes went wide as he witnessed the destruction in front of him. A number of ships had escaped destruction by being outside of the initial blast radius, but they were gradually pulled in as the blasts collapsed in on themselves. The doomed ships collided against one another, carving enormous gashes into their hulls and breaking apart as they were sucked in by the sheer force of the FLEIJA blasts. He spared a glance at the auspex, as triangle after triangle blinked out.

"My lord! Second salvo incoming!"

The Warmaster roared, cursing those fearsome weapons as he spotted a bright green dot streak towards him. He cursed the Imperium and the Emperor and the builders of those ships as the _Eternal Carnage_ disintegrated around him.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Emperor's Vengeance**_**, Mars Orbit  
****Two Hours After the **_**Avalon**_**'s First Appearance**

The initial reports had not been good: the Chaos fleet easily numbered more than one thousand ships, nearly a ten-to-one numerical superiority. Even with the aid of the Grey Knights chapter fleet and a few squadrons from Battle Fleet Solar, the Chaos fleet still held a staggering eight-to-one advantage. The loss of many Forge Worlds during the Reign of Chaos and the Time of Dying rendered the Imperial fleet not only outnumbered, but technologically inferior as well. One by one, the friendly blue triangles blinked out as Chaos vessels picked off their real-life counterparts. Yet, the High Lords still refused to give orders to move the _Emperor's Vengeance_.

The appearance of several unknown readings, small enough to dismiss as space debris, nearly went unnoticed by the bridge crews until they detected the dreaded sickly-green flash of an intertialess drive. The logic engines screeched as the unknown contacts switched from a neutral grey to purple and were tentatively labeled as raiders. Only four ships, but, with the Imperial fleet distracted, that would likely prove enough. The bridge crew remained utterly silent as the largest of the Necron ships moved itself into a firing arc behind the Chaos fleet. Fifteen red triangles disappeared moments later, effortlessly snuffed out with efficiency only the Necrons could manage.

The crew was already mumbling prayers to the Emperor as the hololith updated again. The slight time lag from system's edge to the _Emperor's Vengeance_ only added to the suspense. Enormous pockets of Chaos ships disappeared, and the ships surrounding the now-empty spaces seemed to be rushing in to fill the holes in the line before disappearing off the display. Tech-Priests scurried up to the hololith, performing quick maintenance rituals to ensure that the display was indeed working properly. The display was obscured by static for a few moments, but sharpened up in time for more pockets of the Chaos fleet to disappear. Similar to the last time, the ships surrounding the now-empty voids seemed to rush in to fill the gaps, only to disappear. The new arrivals moved with blinding speeds into the midst of the Chaos fleet.

"Lord-Admiral, sensors detect several more vessels, including an escort-sized vessel, incoming! They do not broadcast valid IFF codes!"

More sickly-green glows were detected on the outskirts of the system, accompanied by several appearing just over Mars orbit. Even the stoic Lord-Admiral couldn't help but pray, "Emperor save us all."

* * *

**Outskirts of Terra System  
****Two Hours After the **_**Avalon**_**'s Initial Appearance**

The battle had become a close-ranged slugging affair with the Chaos vessels, and the _Avalon_'s powerful forward batteries fell silent in fears of hitting allies. The Imperial fleet, once it recovered from the vessel's unexpected appearance, began engaging the enemy again. The _Avalon_'s OPAW unit had taken few casualties so far, being too small for the enemy to effectively target and too slow to trigger shields. However, their tiny numbers meant that they accomplished little beyond harassment attacks. Occasionally, a team would blast through the hull of a Chaos attack craft, board it, and destroy it from within, but they stood little chance against the larger vessels.

The real punch of the Black Knights' attack lay in the Excalibur squadrons. The Chaos gunners had long since given up on targeting the nimble attack craft, instead opting to put up a furious flak screen and hope to hit something. The sixteen FLEIJA missiles each Excalibur carried were not as powerful as the _Avalon_'s, but still punched through enemy shields and armor with ease. Lances and torpedoes occasionally hit the _Avalon_'s hadron fields, slowly chipping away at them, but not quickly enough to inflict serious damage. The frigates accompanying the destroyer had moved on further ahead, their hadron fields and self-repair systems keeping them in the fight much longer than such small ships should be able.

The _Avalon_ pulled up in between two Chaos escorts, both much larger than the _Avalon_, but also severely outgunned by the destroyer. Unable to use FLEIJA warheads at such close range, the _Avalon_'s gun batteries rang out, quickly wearing down the escorts' void shields as return fire pounded on the _Avalon_'s hadron fields. Other Chaos vessels, seeing that the feared vessel was preoccupied tearing apart the two escorts, added their own firepower to the fray. Attack craft attempted bombing runs, only to be chased away by their Black Knights counterparts or shot down by the _Avalon_'s point-defense batteries.

The sheer volume of fire proved too much even for a ship as powerful as the _Avalon_, and its hadron field flickered and died out. As the first field generator recycled, the other generator began to project a new field as the Chaos ships continued their barrage. The frigates and attack craft picked off the ships one by one, but the volume of fire reduced slowly at best. A chance lance strike before the second hadron field fully formed overloaded an energy conduit snaking through the _Avalon_'s armor plates. Chaos weapons fire intensified as a portion of the _Avalon_'s fields flickered out.

Before the Chaos fleet could exploit their newfound advantage, however, a sickly green glow, far larger than the one that brought the _Avalon_, bathed the battlefield. The nose of a ship slowly forced its way through the epicenter of the glow, as if trying to squeeze itself through a far-too-small entrance. Several smaller glows joined the larger one several ships later, as more ships pushed their way into the Materium. Even before the ships fully forced their way through, their forward batteries rang out, a roar of defiance against the universe seemingly objecting to their very existence.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought **_**Pendragon  
**_**Edge of the Terra System**

"Get a jamming field up. I want all enemy sensors and communications blacked out! Communications, tap into the Imperial Omega Line. Tactical, prepare all FLEIJA tubes and Hadron Beams for another volley!"

Despite the huge difference in size, the _Pendragon_'s interior was surprisingly similar to that of the _Avalon_, though much larger in scale. The ship's captain, at nearly two hundred fifty years old, was on the edge of retirement age and knew his ship inside-out. The ship and its crew had survived attacks from Tyranid and Necron fleets, as well as the occasional straggling Chaos war bands. The massive firepower of the Yggdrasil-class dreadnought was rarely bought fully to bear, making moments like the present all the more awe-inspiring, as the _Pendragon_ launched volley after volley of FLEIJA warheads and hadron beams.

"Omega Line is open, receiving package from _Ikaruga_ actual now."

The _Pendragon_'s captain shook his head slightly. The Omega Line itself was _very_ old technology, predating even the STC fragment that had contained it. The plan surrounding the Omega Line required the long view only one of their immortal leaders could furnish. The designs had been uploaded onto a STC fragment that was then planted just ahead of Imperial fleets during the Great Crusade. They had counted on the Mechanicum's blind acceptance of STC technologies to lead to the standardization of the Omega Line into Imperial communications systems. The exact purpose behind the plan, as well as the plan itself, had fallen into obscurity in the twenty thousand years since, only to be bought back into the light as the Black Knights began their march to Terra.

"Package received and decompressed, sir. Sending now."

The _Pendragon_'s captain gave the communications officer a slight nod before turning back to watch the unfolding battle. Broad beams of red and pinpricks of green came into existence as the _Pendragon_ and the cruisers and destroyers accompanying it fired another volley of hadron beams and FLEIJA missiles. Silent blossoms of flame came into being as the fearsome weapons found their mark. The _Avalon_ had taken advantage of the _Pendragon_'s arrival to limp into the safety of the larger ship's defensive battery coverage, making its way to the docking bay in the dreadnought's stomach. The Chaos fleet was slowly falling apart, possessing neither the numbers nor the technology to take on a monster such as the _Pendragon_.

"Sir, we have confirmation from the cruiser _Alsvid_. The package has been successfully delivered."

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Emperor's Vengeance**_**, Mars Orbit  
****Two Hours, Thirty Minutes After the **_**Avalon**_**'s First Appearance**

Gunnery crews had trained several of the ship's weapons batteries onto the new arrival, but most already knew that the gesture was futile. Similar ships, along with one that appeared to be much larger, were ripping the Chaos fleet apart at the system's edge, though they seemed to be leaving the Imperial fleet alone. The ship flew alongside the _Emperor's Vengeance_, its clean and flowing lines standing in stark contrast with the harsh and angular lines of the much larger vessel. Nothing about the design suggested Necron origins.

The hololith displaying the battle suddenly crackled, the image shifting in and out of focus. Tech-Priests surged forward, rapidly running diagnostics on the malfunctioning machine as everyone else on the bridge focused on the image slowly appearing through the static. A three-dimensional image of a malformed three-pronged trident head finally came into focus as the Tech-Priests still hurried to diagnose the problem. The trident head devolved into static as another image came into focus. This one was grainy and distorted, as if the data had degraded with extreme age.

Depicted was a tall, thin man in some strange garment. A gaudy combination of purple and gold combined with a cape that seemed to defy gravity. Most striking, however, was the mask, which bore more than a passing resemblance to the Emperor piece on a regicide board. Flanking him were two figures in blocky suits of power armor, holding what appeared to be a cross between an autogun and a bolter. Before anybody could wonder just what they were seeing, a booming voice filled the bridge of the _Emperor's Vengeance_.

"People of the Imperium, I am Zero!"

* * *

**A/N: **This will be the last chapter in a while. I have a few other fanfic projects I'd like to finish, so I'm putting this work on temporary hiatus. Don't worry, the saga of the Black Knights is only beginning, and here's an omake to tide you guys over until I get back to this project.

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume One: The People**

_Name:_ Nunnally Lamperogue  
_Gender:_ Female  
_Age:_ Unknown (~48,000 Terran Years)  
_Rank:_ Governor of the Black Knights  
_Hair:_ Brown  
_Eyes:_ Purple  
_Knightmare:_ None  
_Weapon(s) of Choice:_ 2x Force Claw, Psychic Ability  
_Description:_ One of the immortal and ageless leaders of the Black Knights, Nunnally Lamperogue fulfills the role of civil administrator of the Black Knights. Her work keeps the day-to-day functions of the _Ikaruga_ and the rest of the fleet proceeding smoothly. She abhors unnecessary violence, but will fight ferociously when provoked. Her deceptively young and fragile appearance leads many to underestimate her, but the few that survive doing so never make that mistake again. Many speculate that she was blind for most of her early life, as her other senses, particularly hearing and touch, are extraordinary. On more than one occasion, she has deduced a person's mood through the subtle fluctuations in voice pitch or sensed people through the disturbances created in the air. While her body may be weak, she is a Psyker of near-incomprehensible power, having been trained by the Emperor himself. From snapping a battleship in half to telekinetically moving herself, there is little she cannot accomplish with sufficient force of will.

_Name:_ Unknown (Codenamed "CC")  
_Gender:_ Female  
_Age:_ Unknown (~49,000 Terran Years)  
_Rank:_ Director of Black Knights Military Arm-Psychic Special Warfare Department  
_Hair:_ Green  
_Eyes:_ Gold  
_Knightmare:_ None  
_Weapon(s) of Choice:_ Force Sword, Psychic Ability  
_Description:_ The oldest of the four Black Knights leaders, her laid-back, blasé personality and penchant for pizza often lead to the misconception of her being quite lazy. While true to a degree, she has perhaps the most dangerous jobs of them all. With the recent upswing of conflicts against Chaos, psychic soldiers are in more and more demand, especially by the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing, and she is responsible for training all of them. While not as powerful as Nunnally Lamperogue, she is still an incredibly powerful Psyker in her own right, capable of cleaving a Titan in half with her Force Sword. The few who have met her describe her as utterly inscrutable: her motivations, or even whether or not she actually has any motives, are usually unknown. Her apparent familiarity with the Emperor of Mankind has led some to conclude that she was quite close to him, perhaps his lover, though no conclusive evidence exists.

_Name:_ Suzaku Kururugi  
_Gender:_ Male  
_Age:_ Unknown (~48,000 Terran Years)  
_Rank:_ General of the Black Knights Military Arm-Militia Division  
_Hair:_ Brown  
_Eyes:_ Green  
_Knightmare:_ KMX-012-2 "Lancelot-Seraph"  
_Weapon(s) of Choice:_ 2x Force Swords, Hand-to-Hand  
_Description:_ A hand-to-hand specialist in the Black Knights, his skill with a Knightmare is challenged only by Kallen Kozuki. Of the four leaders, his psychic powers are the least developed, though they are by no means weak. His forgoing of offensive psychic ability has allowed him to focus more on keeping in-tune with his Knightmare, allowing him to become a nigh-unhittable whirlwind of destruction on the battlefield. In a pinch, he could generate a psychic shockwave to push back or incinerate those in the immediate vicinity, but most of his psychic energy is directed towards enhancing his abilities in close-quarters combat. His ability to see a few seconds into the future gives him an enormous advantage in such situations. As head of the Militia Division of the Black Knights Military Arm, he is responsible for organizing the legions of Archangel Knightmares and the citizen-soldiers that pilot them.

_Name:_ Kallen Kozuki  
_Gender:_ Female  
_Age:_ Unknown (~48,000 Terran Years)  
_Rank:_ General of the Black Knights Military Arm-Special Forces Division  
_Hair:_ Red  
_Eyes:_ Blue  
_Knightmare:_ KMX-012-1 "Gurren-Seraph"  
_Weapon(s) of Choice:_ Force Knife, Hand-to-Hand  
_Description:_ Instead of the sheer psychic ability of Nunnally Lamperogue or the melee prowess of Suzaku Kururugi, Kallen Kozuki rests somewhere in the middle. Slightly less powerful than CC when it comes to sheer psychic ability, she makes up for it with her ferociousness in melee combat, her rapid blows often wearing down opponents before she goes in for the killing strike. Her psychic abilities are generally confined to either peering several seconds into the future or to subtly redirect incoming enemy weapons fire, though, like Suzaku, she can generate a psychic shockwave as a last-ditch attack. As head of the Special Forces Division, she often leads OPAW units into battle, usually accompanied by several psychic soldiers. Due to her reputation for a quick temper and vicious punches, especially uppercuts, the 5th OPAW has decreed that a member is only truly initiated when they've made at least one drop and have asked Kallen Kozki on a date with helmet camera footage to prove it, the latter being considered the more dangerous task.

_Name:_ Black Knights Military Arm-Militia Division  
_Population:_ Unknown (Somewhere in the Millions)  
_Description: _The backbone of the Black Knights' rarely-used war machine, the Militia Division does not consist of full-time soldiers. Rather, all able-bodied Black Knights from eighteen to one hundred seventy are trained and organized into militia units. Under normal circumstances, only a few militia units are active at any given time, serving nine-month stints before being deactivated and returned to their civilian jobs. "Militia Division" does not encompass just the militia units on the ground, but many of the warship crews are also drawn from this department of the Military Arm. Their standard-issue Knightmare, the Archangel, is tough and reliable, as well as being cheap and easy to manufacture _en masse_. Only a few conflicts have proven large enough to merit their deployment, with the last one being the Third Necrotic War.

_Name:_ Black Knights Military Arm-Special Forces Division  
_Population:_ Unknown (~50,000)  
_Description: _Unlike their counterparts in the Militia Division, the Special Forces Division's members are full-time soldiers. Their main department is the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing, tasked with reconnaissance and precision strikes behind enemy lines, as well as to clear beachheads for incoming Militia units where applicable. Casualties are often very high, but the small size of OPAW units, around one hundred twenty members each, fosters such bonds that transfers on non-medical grounds are incredibly rare. On paper, the Psychic Special Warfare Department is the second, much smaller, department of the Special Forces Division. In practice, it is its own independent department. While all Black Knights are Psykers, only a very tiny number display enough ability to merit the attention of the Psychic Special Warfare Department. These specially-trained soldiers tear through enemy lines with their psychic abilities, and are not organized into any formal units. Rather, they are attached to Militia or OPAW units as needed. Nicknames for Psychic Special Warfare troopers range from "mage" to "spook," though the latter is considered mildly derogatory by some.


	6. Chapter Five: The Black Knights

**Author's Note: **I'm really, really sorry for such a late update! I've got a lot on my plate right now, but everything's calming down, so I should have a more consistent update schedule soon!

**Disclaimer: **Unless my entire life so far has been a lie, I don't own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Black Knights**

**Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance_, Mars Orbit****  
****Two Hours, Thirty Minutes After the _Avalon's_ First Appearance**

"For millennia, you have lived in a society of stagnation, fear, and intolerance! The once-glorious days of the Great Crusade have long passed, and the Imperium of Man is now besieged on all sides by Chaos! People of the Imperium, we are the Black Knights, the Emperor's chosen soldiers! As the mighty human civilization crumbled, we embarked on a great exodus from Terra, vowing to one day return. Now, in your darkest hour, we fulfill that vow, throwing back the veil of secrecy to smash your enemies and drive them from humanity's rightful domains! Warriors of the Imperium, rally behind us and, together, we shall re-forge the Imperium, one mightier than ever before! Join me, join us," the masked man extended his hand towards his audience, "and there shall be no limit to what humanity can accomplish!"

As suddenly as the broadcast began, it ended. The masked man and the mechanical beings faded away, and the rotating malformed trident head once again projected on the hololith. In the dim light, the dozens of men and women that made up the battleship's bridge crew mutely stared at one another. The silence gradually spread to the rest of the _Emperor's Vengeance_ as the message replayed over ship's internal vox network despite the Techpreists' repeated attempts to suppress the transmission. Even the eternal clanking and groaning normally echoing throughout a functioning Imperial vessel fell silent as if in awe of this "Zero."

Lord Admiral Nolan Giarputto slowly turned his gaze towards the hololith, which had reverted to displaying the data transmitted from the system's edge. He started intently at the purple triangles as they, one by one, reverted back to gray. Those ships, belonging to the self-identified "Black Knights," had almost single-handedly beat back a major Chaos assault with seemingly no effort. There was not a single red triangle to be found on the current display: nearly all of the Chaos ships they represented had been destroyed, though several flare-ups in Warp activity indicated that a few of them escaped, by the new arrivals.

Small quantities of text began appearing next to the triangles as data streamed in from the remnants of Battle Fleet Ultima. What stood out most to the Lord Admiral was the size of the ships: according to auspex scans, even the largest of them measured barely a kilometer in length, smaller than even the tiniest escort. The incredible amounts of firepower they demonstrated, however, could rival that of an entire fleet. Following the brutal one-sided slaughter of the Chaos fleet, however, the ships had fallen silent, simply drifting through space and seemingly ignoring the Imperial fleet arrayed in front of them.

"Lord Admiral Giarputto?" the captain timidly spoke up, "What are your orders concerning the unidentified vessels?"

"Leave them alone for now," the Lord Admiral spoke up after several moments' contemplation, "But keep weapons trained on them. If they take any hostile action, destroy them."

That second order was more for the crew's reassurance than anything else. Nobody held any illusions that they could possibly win a battle against those ships.

* * *

**Hangar Bay, Space Station ****_Ikaruga  
_Twenty Hours From the Terra System**

Nunnally Lamperouge observed the scene below with a good measure of awe: if she had ever seen so much military might in one place before, she couldn't remember the occasion. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of drop shuttles were arranged in neat rows on the hangar bay floor, stretching nearly from wall to wall. The hangar bay was silent save for the nearly-silent humming of massive ceiling-mounted cranes busily loading supplies into the drop shuttles' open cargo bays. Though the sheer numbers oftentimes proved mind-boggling, she knew all too well just how quickly those mountains of supplies could disappear. Until they could establish stable supply lines, the ground forces would have to rely on whatever supplies they bought with them, and she had little doubt that many Imperial units were in desperate need of resupply as well.

Nunnally tore her eyes away from the assembled fleet, tilting her head slightly as the communicator in her ear beeped. The voice on the other end, which she recognized as belonging to one of her advisors, calmly informed her that civilian evacuations were complete. She nodded her head, though she knew the man couldn't see her gesture, and thanked him before turning her attention back to the landing fleet gathered before her.

Despite universal compulsory military service, a policy Nunnally personally loathed but recognized as vital to the fleet's survival, never before had so many militia units been called up to fight. Throughout the _Ikaruga_'s gigantic hull, millions of men and women were girding up for war, bidding good luck to friends and family they might not see again as they disappeared behind layers of rutalium carbide. Those too young, too old, or too sick to fight were evacuated to the relative safety of the _Ikaruga_'s inner decks. She swallowed hard, forcing back down the bile rapidly rising in her throat as she thought of the horrendous amounts of bloodshed, no matter how justified, about to take place.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling audibly, Nunnally turned around and left the observation platform. The two Knighmares flanking her followed her, staying just one pace behind the Psyker. As intimidating as the metal giants were, they were mostly just for show: the petite governor could crush both of them with a single thought.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon_, Edge of the Terra System****  
****Six Hours After the _Avalon's_ First Appearance**

Even while a large-scale fleet battle was raging, the bridge of the _Pendragon_ had remained relatively calm. At least, it would appear that way to the casual bystander. Several dozen Archangel Knightmares, their smart-paint set to display the standard black and silver punctuated with colored markings corresponding to their ranks and jobs, sat in near-total silence at their respective crew stations. The comm channels, however, told the true story: in the chaos mere hours before, hardly a single channel remained unused as bridge crew shouted orders and counter-orders at each other. Sensor contacts, firing vectors, and course changes dominated the airwaves as the mighty dreadnought conducted its one-sided slaughter of the Chaos vessels.

For all the computing power squeezed into such a relatively small room, the dreadnought's bridge was simple and uncluttered. Consoles lined the perimeter of the room, assembling readouts on the massive warship's status, updated in real-time by thousands of reports from all over the ship. The center of the room was sunken approximately a meter below the rest of the floor, with a massive holographic projector as the centerpiece. Anything, from a real-time display of the surrounding area to important communications, could be projected for all the bridge crew to see. Two clusters of computer consoles populated the pit, one around the perimeter and the other around the projector itself. Besides two circular paths in between the computer banks, a single straight path ran down the length of the bridge, broken up only by the projector.

The captain of the _Pendragon_ stood at the front of the bridge more out of tradition than of practicality. Had the _Pendragon_ been built twenty thousand years ago, perhaps the bridge would have been located on the dreadnought's hull instead of being tucked deep within, protected by meters of armor plating. The "window" in front of him was little more than a viewscreen hooked up to an external camera. Not merely a decoration, the monitor was connected to the dreadnought's sensor arrays, allowing the faux window to display relevant data on anything within visual range. At the moment, that category included the IFF data of multiple Black Knights ships and even a few of the older Imperial ships. A blinking light in his peripheral vision tore his eyes from the actually-rather-boring view.

"Captain Maciver, Battle Group _Arvak_ has arrived."

The captain turned around to the projector in the center of the room, currently displaying a sensor map of the system. Sure enough, another cluster of blue triangles had appeared, representing the _Arvak_, a Trundholm-class cruiser, and its sizable support fleet.

"Good. Everything is proceeding as scheduled, then. Any updates on the _Ikaruga_?"

"Their latest sitrep indicates they are still eighteen hours away…" the sensor station officer fell silent for a split second, "Captain, the _Ikaruga_ also reports that the second Chaos battle fleet has slipped into a favorable Warp current. Current calculations indicate they will reach the edge of the system in approximately sixty-eight hours. They request that we inform the Imperial Navy immediately."

The captain hardly needed a moments' contemplation before opening a channel with his communications officer.

"Open a line with the Imperial flagship. It'll most likely be that Oberon in the center of the fleet."

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Glorious  
_Edge of the Terra System**

"Captain Ekis, we've been hailed by the newly-arrived ships."

The lethargy that had overtaken the bridge following the end of the battle dissipated in a flash as the _Glorious_' captain sat up in his command throne. The Inquisitor, previously just silently and aimlessly wandering around the bridge while the crew tried their best to ignore him, sprinted towards the hololith. In an admirable display of self-control, he kept his mouth shut when his shin audibly knocked into the device.

"Put it on!" He practically shouted at the communications officer.

Manuel Kirschman took a split second to compose himself, brushing some imaginary dust from the front of his robes as he cleared his throat. Taking a deep breath, he rearranged his features into a look of calm indifference as the malformed trident once again appeared on the hololith. The insignia hung in the air for several rotations before disappearing, and the Inquisitor staggered back at the sight of the face that replaced it. For one wild moment, he believed he was looking at a previously-unknown form of Necron soldier. He dispelled those notions as soon as he regained his composure a second later, carefully rearranging his features into an inscrutable mask.

The face in front of him bore little resemblance to the vaguely humanoid faces of the mechanical giants seen flanking the mysterious "Zero." Save for a pair of recessed eyes staring out at him from a slit, the face consisted of an expanse of black and silver metal devoid of features. A shiver travelled up the seasoned Imperial servant's spine: he just couldn't shake how Necron-like those eyes appeared, with their sickly green glow. The manner in which the rest of the head was bulked up reminded him of a combat helmet. A noticeable ridge protruded from the top of the head, running from the forehead to the center of the scalp. Even a common Imperial citizen could tell him that he was looking at a weapon of war.

"Attention Imperial flagship, I bring urgent news from our leaders and request to speak to the highest-ranking officer aboard your ship."

"As an Inquisitor of the Ordos Xenos, I possess ultimate authority over this battle fleet. What is this urgent news you bring?"

"The main Chaos fleet has encountered, or perhaps summoned, a favorable Warp current, cutting an estimated fifty hours off their trip. As of now, we believe that they will arrive within sixty-eight hours. I am forwarding relevant data now."

The current image drastically shrunk, retreating into the upper right corner of the hololith projection, leaving a temporary black void. A chart of the Terra system soon filled that gap. A massive swath of space at the system's edge, where the remnants of Battle Fleet Ultima were located, pulsed red.

"Currently, this area corresponds with a nearby calm zone in the Warp, and it is reasonable to believe that the Chaos fleet will exit the Warp at this point and make an all-out rush through the defense stations located in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. Our tacticians believe they intend to capture the forges of Mars before mounting an assault on Terra."

"And how large is this Chaos fleet?"

"Unknown. However, judging from the size of the Warp shadow, we estimate it to number in the thousands at the very least."

Silence descended upon the _Glorious_' bridge as several dozen hearts simultaneously stopped, and an equal number of breaths hitched. For nearly five seconds, the battleship's bridge remained as silent as the space outside. A beeping sound snapped everyone out of their shock as a second swath of space, located roughly around Neptune's orbital path, began pulsing blue on the hololith display. This second patch was much smaller than the first, but still of considerable size.

"Fortunately, our main fleet should arrive within the next eighteen hours. Their jump calculations will cause them to exit the Warp at the highlighted area. Additionally, our leaders request that any Imperial ships operating within this area be evacuated, as we cannot guarantee their safety while our fleet emerges from the Warp."

"I shall make the necessary arrangements at once," Inquisitor Kirschman made the sign of the Aquila, "The Emperor protects."

If the _Pendragon_'s captain had any response to that, it was lost as the Inquisitor, with a quick hand gesture, ordered the connection terminated.

"Shall I-," Captain Ekis began.

"Contact the _Emperor's Vengeance_ immediately," Kirschman ordered, both cutting the captain off and answering his question.

The communications officer hurriedly set about his task, trying his best to ignore the Inquisitor hovering over his shoulder. Despite, or perhaps because of, being in such close proximity to one of the most feared men in the Imperium, the link was established in record time.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance_, Mars Orbit  
Six Hours, Thirty Minutes After the _Avalon's_ First Appearance**

The bridge crew of the _Emperor's Vengeance_ looked at one another uncertainly as the Lord Admiral terminated the link. Even though the aged soldier put on a stoic front, those around him could see that the news had clearly shaken the man. Those closest to him could even see how his lower lip quivered slightly. He maintained that deceptively-calm demeanor as much for his benefit as the men's: the news of such a large Chaos fleet arriving so soon would break lesser men. Already, he could see despair overtaking several of the crew around him. He cleared his throat audibly, causing several to jump in their seats.

"I want a complete list of every ship either currently in-system or predicted to arrive within the next forty-eight hours," he barked out in the most commanding voice he could muster.

As Astropaths and sensor station crew scrambled to compile the list, Lord Admiral Giarputto turned towards the larger-than-usual communications crew. One of his predecessors, a particularly far-sighted man, had realized the _Emperor's Vengeance_ was to become little more than a static command center and requested that the Tech-Priests install the latest and most advanced communications suite the Mechanicum could fabricate. In exchange for requiring triple the amount of communications technicians, the _Emperor's Vengeance_ boasted command-and-control capabilities rivaling that of an Imperial Navy sector headquarters.

"I want those coordinates forwarded to every ship within our communications range. Make it clear that access to those areas is restricted until further notice. Establish lines to the defensive stations as well. I want them all put on high alert."

Confident that everyone was too absorbed in their assigned tasks to notice, Nolan Giarputto leaned further back against the railing and closed his eyes, sighing deeply in relief. The explosion of noise and activity completely swept away all traces of the crushing hopelessness that had descended on the crew mere moments before. With the men and women of the _Emperor's Vengeance_ busily preparing Battle Fleet Solar for battle, Giarputto was given alone time with his private doubts. No matter how many ships made the rendezvous, they would still be heavily outnumbered and outgunned, with only these so-called "Black Knights" to make up the difference.

In another time, Imperial ships would have opened fire on the Black Knights the moment they entered the system. Now, with Chaos marching on Holy Terra itself, they were willing to ally themselves with a faction nobody knew much, if anything, about. Nolan doubted he was alone in not trusting them: they only had the Black Knights' own word as to who they were and what they wanted. But, he reckoned, if these "Black Knights" were so willing to fight Chaos, they could be useful. If nothing else, they would wear themselves down fighting the Great Enemy, making them easier to deal with if it ever came down to that.

* * *

**Briefing Room, Black Knights Frigate _Valiant  
_Five Hours, Thirty Minutes Later**

Even amongst the First Orbital Planetary Assault Wing, Lieutenant Karen "Scarface" Schneider was somewhat of a legend. Her moniker originated from the distinctive scar running down the left side of her face, an injury from the Third Necrotic War she refused to have regenerated. Rumors persisted that she had acquired it in a one-on-one fight with a Necron Lord, a story she persistently denied on grounds that it had only been a Flayed One. With such a formidable reputation, it came as little surprise that General Kozuki would select her squad for a special assignment.

As soon as the last Knightmare filed through the doorway and took a spot at the table, Karen flipped on the holo-projector. Unlike the Imperial hololiths, the image projected was crisp and stable. If she really wanted, she could set the image to be visually indistinguishable from the real thing, but there was no need. Nobody would believe something as heavy as Knightmare frame could safely stand on a briefing table anyway.

"This," she began, "is one of the first Knightmares, designed and built before the exodus from Earth."

It was certainly an unusual design, and Karen gave the assembled soldiers some time to study the image. For such an old machine, the appearance more closely resembled that of modern Knightmares rather than the chunky designs of its era. Unlike the sleek, utilitarian lines of an "Archangel" or "Cherub," however, the designer had clearly meant for the ancient Knightmare to intimidate. The enormous knee and forearm guards lent much-needed bulk to the otherwise-lanky design, with massive angled shoulder protectors contributing to an extremely aggressive aura. A large burgundy backpack, with four stubby wings protruding, gave the machine a top- and back-heavy appearance. The Knightmare itself was black and gold, with occasional swathes of gunmetal.

"Its official designation is the 'KMX-001-0," Karen continued, "and its code name is 'Shinkirou.' Only one was ever built, intended for the personal use of Zero himself. Weapons are nothing special, overall performance is mediocre at best, and it had a _very_ short operational time. By the time of the exodus, it was almost completely outclassed by other Knightmares. However, it was never meant to be a high-performance machine: rather, it was designed to have the strongest possible defenses. Void shields of the Shinkirou's caliber are normally seen on _Titans_. Neither General Kozuki nor General Kururugi want this technology falling into Chaos hands!"

The hologram of the Shinkirou disappeared, replaced by a map of Mars. More specifically, it showed a three-dimensional representation of the Valles Marineris region. Unlike the rest of Mars, encrusted with forges, both the valley and the surrounding areas had remained undeveloped.

"According to Director CC, the Shinkirou was hidden below the surface of Mars just before the Great Crusade. There is an old Black Knights base in the Valles Marineris region built during the initial settlement of Mars. It's deep enough underground to escape sensor sweeps, and all information regarding this base was either taken with us on the exodus or purged in the early days of the Imperium. There is no reason to believe that the Mechanicum has discovered this base. Our job is to reopen this base and retrieve the Shinkirou."

The hologram zoomed out, soon revealing a sizable tunnel complex stretching deep underground. Silence dominated the room as the assembled OPAW troops studied the layout of the complex. Karen could already sense the unasked question hovering amongst her men.

"If this were any other mission, a rank-and-file militia unit would have probably been sent instead. You might have noticed the lack of forges in the area. The Mechanicum tried to build a few during the Great Crusade, but workers and Tech-Priests kept on going missing in the surrounding caves. Then the Mechanicum devolved into civil war and they abandoned their construction efforts. Valles Marineris feeds straight into the Noctis Labyrinth, making it one of the most dangerous places on Mars. The Inquisition believes there is a Necron tomb somewhere in the Labyrinth, and what little information we have on the situation supports this theory."

A chill descended upon the gathering. The Third Necrotic War was still fresh in everybody's minds, and some units had yet to recover from their losses. As members of the 1st OPAW, they had all been in the thick of the fighting and had witnessed firsthand what a Gauss weapon could do to a Knightmare. But even that conflict paled in comparison to the First Necrotic War, still spoken about in hushed tones nearly a millennium after the war's end. In the closing days of the war, the Necrons launched a direct assault on the fleet. The _Ikaruga_ itself had been fired upon, and it was only after heavy losses did they destroy the Necron fleet. Despite being significantly more advanced than their Imperial cousins, even the Black Knights had something to fear when it came to Necrons.

"We will reach the insertion point in two hours. Be sure to download and familiarize yourself with the facility maps beforehand. Dismissed!"

* * *

**Black Knights Jump Point  
Twelve Hours Later**

With the weight of both a Lord Admiral's and an Inquisitor's authority behind the orders, a swathe of space several hundred million cubic kilometers in volume had been evacuated within ten hours. The Black Knights vessels currently in-system patrolled the outskirts of the quarantined zone, accompanied by a small number of Imperial vessels. Imperial navigators looked upon the Black Knights' precision short-range jumps with a mixture of awe and envy: whereas even short hops with Imperial Warp drives needed considerable allowance for error, several Black Knights battle groups jumped in perfect formation without incident.

At the appointed time, nearly every auspex in the Imperial fleet was blinded by the massive energy surge as hundreds of vessels pushed their way back into real space. The entire region of space lit up, massive arcs of warp energy crackling from the holes in reality. With their relatively tiny mass, the frigates and destroyers were the first to break into real space, rapidly assembling into their battle groups and disgorging their squadrons of attack craft to form the beginnings of a fighter screen.

The Black Knights capital ships, tiny but incredibly powerful, arrived next. Squadrons of long, sleek cruisers dropped out of the Warp, quickly forming up with the smaller warships and contributing to the growing fighter screen. Countless miscellaneous support vessels, configured for every role from electronic warfare to mobile factory, appeared near the center of the formation, safely cocooned within the fleet's defenses. Massive, knife-shaped dreadnoughts steadily pushed their way through wounds in reality, their enormous mass preventing an easy transition.

The next wave's ships were the largest seen thus far by a large margin: at nearly the size of an Imperial cruiser, each one was easily a dozen times more massive than the Black Knights' dreadnoughts. As the last of the distinctive twin-hulled vessels fully emerged from the Warp, the Imperial fleet dispersed slightly, thinking the last of the Black Knights' ships had arrived and intending to give them room to maneuver. They were proven wrong as a massive energy surge, the largest one yet, blinded every auspex in the general area.

When the energy surge finally died down, the Imperial forces could do little but stare in awe at the sight before them. Shaped vaguely like a sharp-edged flower, the massive construct easily dwarfed even the Imperial Ramilies-pattern star fortresses. Stretching kilometers in every direction, defensive batteries and hangar bays encrusted every surface of the behemoth.

The _Ikaruga_ had arrived.

* * *

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Two: The Knightmares**

_Name:_ KMC-012-01 "Lancelot-Seraph"  
_Pilot:_ General Suzaku Kururugi  
_Height:_ 2 meters  
_Weight (fully-equipped w/ pilot):_ 1.56 metric tons  
_Power Source:_ Cold Fusion Micro-Reactor  
_Defenses:_ 4 cm Reinforced Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified), Full-Body Hadron Field  
_Weapons (Built-In):_ 4x Hadron Field-Enhanced Slash Harkens (2x Waist-Mounted, 2x Forearm-Mounted), 2x Back-Mounted Energy Wings  
_Weapons (Hand-Carried):_ 2x Force Swords (w/ 2x Backpack-Mounted Scabbards), Hadron Assault Rifle (w/ Built-In Hadron Spread Cannon, Back-Mounted Recharge Rack)  
_Propulsion:_ 2x Back-Mounted Micro Gravitric Drives  
_Misc. Features:_ Psycho-Crystalline Matrix, Holographic Heads-Up Display (w/ IFF Decoder, Suit and Health Status Monitors), Sensor Suite (w/ Infrared, Night Vision, Motion-Tracking Capabilities), Integrated Communications (w/ Orbital Uplink, Squad Uplink), Integrated Automated First-Aid Dispenser, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint  
_Description:_ Blindingly fast, unbelievably agile, and equipped with two Force swords specifically tuned to Suzaku's psychic signature and capable of carving through most armor, the Lancelot-Seraph is easily one of the deadliest Knightmares ever created. Equipped with a custom-made psycho-crystalline matrix, Suzaku can pilot the Lancelot-Seraph literally through sheer force of will, dramatically increasing the Knightmare's responsiveness. Though a hand-carried hadron assault rifle provides some degree of ranged combat capability, the Lancelot-Seraph is a melee-oriented Knightmare, generally using its slash harkens to ensnare enemies and pull them into sword range. Though its gravitric drives render energy wings redundant, the Lancelot-Seraph retains them in a purely weaponized form, using them to lash out at unsuspecting opponents with devastating results. To this end, they are usually used by Suzaku as an extra set of blades, though they are also capable of unleashing a withering hail of energy bolts. Should the Lancelot-Seraph's hadron field fail, its energy wings can serve as more-than-adequate substitutes.

_Name:_ KMC-012-02 "Guren-Seraph"  
_Pilot:_ General Kallen Kozuki  
_Height:_ 1.8 meters  
_Weight (fully-equipped w/ pilot):_ 1.57 metric tons  
_Power Source:_ Cold Fusion Micro-Reactor  
_Defenses:_ 5 cm Reinforced Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified), Full-Body Hadron Field  
_Weapons (Built-In):_ 2x Chest-Mounted Hadron Field-Enhanced Slash Harkens, Forearm-Mounted Hadron Projector, Radiant Wave Surger, 5x Hadron Field-Enhanced Claws, 2x Back-Mounted Energy Wings  
_Weapons (Hand-Carried):_ None  
_Propulsion:_ 2x Back-Mounted Micro Gravitric Drives  
_Misc. Features:_ Psycho-Crystalline Matrix, Holographic Heads-Up Display (w/ IFF Decoder, Suit and Health Status Monitors), Sensor Suite (w/ Infrared, Night Vision, Motion-Tracking Capabilities), Integrated Communications (w/ Orbital Uplink, Squad Uplink), Integrated Automated First-Aid Dispenser, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint  
_Description:_Though lacking some of the Lancelot-Seraph's sheer speed and agility, the Guren-Seraph more than compensates with the ability to dish out and soak up tremendous amounts of punishment. Taking the place of its right arm, the Guren-Seraph's distinctive Radiant Wave Surger serves as the Knightmare's supremely versatile primary weapon. At melee distances, it can grip opponents and pump radiation through them until they burst. Not even at a distance are opponents safe from the Guren-Seraph's fury, its Radiant Wave Surger capable of projecting anything from a thin, focused beam for piercing heavy armor to a wide-dispersed wave for indiscriminate area destruction. Additionally, the Radiant Wave Surger's five claws, equipped with hadron field generators, are formidable melee weapons in their own right, cleaving through armor with frightening ease. Two slash harkens and a hadron projector mounted on the Guren-Seraph's left forearm supplement this formidable weapon. Rounding off this arsenal is a pair of energy wings, identical in function to the Lancelot-Seraph's.

_Name:_ KMI-011-02 "Cherub"  
_Operator: _BlackKnights Military Arm-Special Forces Division-Orbital Planetary Assault Wing  
_Height:_ 1.85 meters  
_Weight (fully-equipped w/ pilot):_ 1.73 metric tons  
_Power Source:_ Cold Fusion Micro-Reactor  
_Defenses:_ 3 cm Reinforced Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified), 2x Forearm-Mounted Hadron Field Emitters  
_Weapons (Built-In):_ 4x Hadron Field-Enhanced Slash Harkens (2x Forearm-Mounted, 2x Waist-Mounted), 2x Energy Wings  
_Weapons (Hand-Carried):_ Hadron Light Machine Gun (w/ Chest-Mounted Storage Rack), 6x Chaos Mines (w/ 2x Hip-Mounted Storage Racks), Micro-FLEJIA Launcher (w/ Stomach-Mounted Storage Rack, 2x Reloads), 4x Hadron Sabers (w/ 2x Shoulder-Mounted Recharge Racks, 2x Wrist-Mounted Recharge Racks)  
_Propulsion:_ 2x Back-Mounted Energy Wings, 2x Foot-Mounted Landspinners  
_Misc. Features:_ Psycho-Crystalline Matrix, Holographic Heads-Up Display (w/ IFF Decoder, Suit and Health Status Monitors, Squad Status Monitor), Sensor Suite (w/ Infrared, Night Vision, Motion-Tracking Capabilities), Integrated Communications (w/ Orbital Uplink, Squad Uplink), Integrated Automated First-Aid Dispenser, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint, Disposable Heat Shield (w/ Back-Mounted Mounting Lugs)  
_Description:_ The Orbital Planetary Assault Wing delivers troops directly through a planet's atmosphere, a fact reflected in the Cherub, their signature Knightmare. As accommodating a head shield precluded the inclusion of micro gravitric drives, the Cherub lacks the distinctive "backpack" of other modern Knightmare designs. Flight capability is instead provided by a pair of energy wings, though the sizable wingspan proves troublesome in confined areas. In such environments, rapid deployment capability is provided by lanspinners instead. A hand-carried hadron light machine gun makes up the core of the Cherub's offensive capabilities, though it is often swapped out for a hadron carbine for missions in confined environments. A fully-equipped Cherub also carries four hadron sabers, four slash harkens, six Chaos Mines, each capable of unleashing a devastating shrapnel storm over a sizable area, and a micro-FLEIJA launcher for use against heavy armor. Though formidable, the Cherub lacks a full-body hadron field and sports the thinnest armor of the current generation of Knightmares.

_Name:_ KMI-011-01b "Archangel"  
_Operator: _Black Knights Military Arm-Militia Division  
_Height:_ 2 meters  
_Weight (fully-equipped w/ pilot):_ 1.56 metric tons  
_Power Source:_ Cold Fusion Micro-Reactor  
_Defenses:_ 4 cm Reinforced Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified), Full-Body Hadron Field  
_Weapons (Built-In):_ 2x Waist-Mounted Hadron Field-Enhanced Slash Harkens, 2x Forearm-Mounted Hadron Projectors, 2x Backpack-Mounted Hadron Cannons  
_Weapons (Hand-Carried):_ Hadron Assault Rifle (w/ Built-In Hadron Spread Cannon, Back-Mounted Recharge Rack), 2x Hadron Sabers (w/ 2x Shoulder-Mounted Recharge Racks)  
_Propulsion:_ 2x Back-Mounted Micro Gravitric Drives  
_Misc. Features:_ Psycho-Crystalline Matrix, Holographic Heads-Up Display (w/ IFF Decoder, Suit and Health Status Monitors, Squad Status Monitor), Sensor Suite (w/ Infrared, Night Vision, Motion-Tracking Capabilities), Integrated Communications (w/ Orbital Uplink, Squad Uplink), Integrated Automated First-Aid Dispenser, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint  
_Description:_ The standard-issue Knightmare of the Black Knights Military Arm-Militia Division, the Archangel is rugged, reliable, and easy to maintain. As a mass-produced unit, it lacks some of the more expensive features found on its Special Forces counterpart, the KMI-011-02 "Cherub." However, thanks to its psycho-crystalline matrix, the Archangel is still a high-performance design more than capable of taking on all but the toughest opponents. In addition to robust armor protection and a full-body hadron field, the Archangel's survivability is drastically increased through an integrated self-repair system. Designed for maximum flexibility, the Archangel boasts a small but highly versatile mix of built-in weapons. Its hadron projectors possess two modes: a blade mode for melee combat and a blaster mode for short- to mid-range engagements. A pair of hadron cannons, normally folded behind the shoulders, can deploy for use against heavily-armored targets. The now-standard "b" version introduces significant improvements over the original, including an improved electronics suite and increased power output.

_Name:_ KMX-001-0 "Shinkirou"  
_Operator:_Lelouch Lamperogue  
_Height:_ 2.1 meters  
_Weight (fully-equipped w/ pilot):_ 3.62 metric tons  
_Power Source:_ Replaceable Energy Filler (w/ Solar Recharger)  
_Defenses:_ 7 cm Layered Ceramite-Plasteel-Adamantium, Full-Body Void Shield Emitter  
_Weapons (Built-In):_ 2x Forearm-Mounted Plasma Cannons, Chest-Mounted Maser Cannon  
_Weapons (Hand-Carried):_ None  
_Propulsion:_ Float System, 2x Foot-Mounted Landspinners  
_Misc. Features:_ Digital Heads-Up Display (w/ IFF Decoder, Suit Status Monitor), Sensor Suite, Integrated Communications  
_Description:_ Designed during the Dark Age of Technology, the Shinkirou saw extensive use during the Unification Wars. Despite its advanced weaponry, the Shinkirou was actually designed to have the strongest possible defenses. However, even its armor, worthy of a Space Marine Terminator, pales in contrast to its void shields. Built using technologies long since lost to most of humanity, they would not be out of place on a Titan. Unfortunately, a Knightmare-portable computer capable of performing the millions of adjustments per second needed to keep the shields synchronized did not yet exist. As a result, only Lelouch could operate it at its full potential. Enormous energy requirements also hampered the Shinkirou: a fresh energy filler might carry it through twenty minutes of moderately-heavy combat. Though its defense is unmatched even by modern Knightmares, the Shinkirou's overall performance was sub-par at best, and it would be quickly outclassed by other pre-exodus Knightmares. Currently, the Shinkirou is hidden somewhere under the Martian surface.

**Author's Note:** For those who are curious, there is a system for numbering these Knightmares, and its pretty simple.  
The first two letters simply stand for "**K**night**m**are." They're there for no real reason except it felt weird to just have one-letter designations.  
The second denotes the production type: "I" indicates a mass-produced infantry type, "C" indicates a custom unit, and "X" indicates an experimental unit.  
The first three numbers indicate the Knightmare's generation, with each new generation corresponding to a significant game-changing advancement in Knightmare technology. I have about half of the generations filled out in my head, but I currently have no plans to introduce any new Knightmares in this story, so the actual technology is unimportant. But, for the curious, here it is:  
1st Generation: Compact Knightmare technology.  
2nd Generation: Psycho-crystalline matrix technology.  
3rd Generation:  
4th Generation:  
5th Generation: Cold fusion micro-reactor technology.  
6th Generation: Mass-produced energy wing technology.  
7th Generation: Controllable hadron field technology.  
8th Generation: Nanite technology.  
9th Generation:  
10th Generation:  
11th Generation: Gravitric impeller technology.  
12th Generation: Does not yet exist. Both "-Seraph" units utilize eleventh generation technology. However, their performance is far enough ahead of current eleventh generation units to place them on par with theoretical twelfth generation units, hence the designation.  
The last two numbers indicate the order in which the Knightmare first rolled off the production lines. So, basically, the Archangel and the Guren-Seraph were built before the Cherub and the Lancelot-Seraph, respectively. This is reset with each new generation.  
Any letter after all that indicate revisions. This only applies to the Archangel, which has gone through two revisions at some point in the past.

* * *

**Omake #2: Why Updating is So Slow**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam. I just really enjoy watching the animes. Well, most of them...

Year 0153 of the Universal Century: the Zanscare Empire has commenced an invasion of Earth. With the Earth Federation crumbling, all hopes lie with the League Militaire, a civilian militia and resistances group. However, even their Victory Gundams may not be enough to see them through this conflict. Armed with new, devastatingly-powerful mobile weapons, BESPA launches a genocide campaign targeting the city of Woowig. Two gunshots will forever change the course of history.

Cosmic Era 073: the hard-won peace is under threat. Cities on Earth and the PLANTs in space alike are being destroyed one by one. Millions are dead or displaced, and governments are looking for somebody to blame. As ZAFT and the Earth Alliance once again arm for war, it is up to the heroes of the Bloody Valentines' War to defuse the situation by bringing those responsible to justice. What they discover threatens the very existence of both sides, and they might just be in way over their heads.

After Colony 210: the curse of the mobile suit has once again been unleashed upon humanity. The Martian War, the largest and most devastating war in human history, had left countless millions dead and scarred both Earth and Mars. The Preventers organization lies in shambles, hardly able to maintain order as the ESUN and the Mars colonies travel the long road to recovery. When a new threat emerges, only one group can meet it: Preventers' covert operations unit Department Nine.

All is not well. The very fabric of the universe is damaged, and rifts are opening between worlds. As time itself is irrevocably altered, an unlikely band of allies scrambles to solve the mystery of the rift as other forces work behind the scenes to advance their sinister agenda. At the end of this harrowing journey lies an evil beyond imagination…

Coming soon: _Mobile Suit Gundam Ragnarok_, a fanfiction co-written by Zenetos and Soraga.

**Author's Note:** Some might have noticed that community I joined a while back. This is what it is for. Still in the early writing stages, so no definite update schedule for this project yet.


	7. Chapter Six: Beneath the Red Sands I

**Author's Note:** And real life makes me a liar once again. I'm really sorry about this highly delayed update.

**Disclaimer: **Standard stuff applies. Don't own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_.

**Chapter Six: Beneath the Red Sands, Part I**

**Martian Equatorial Defense Station  
Ten Hours Before the _Ikaruga_'s First Appearance**

_18:24:00:_ Disturbance detected. Deimos-Pattern Logic Engine #1938392-Z begin defrost sequence.

_18:24:10:_ Object detected in high orbit. Analysis begun.

_18:25:00: _Analysis complete. Object roughly fifty meters in length. High concentrations of metallic substances detected. Object identified as high-density meteor.

_18:25:15: _Trajectory calculations complete. Projected impact site encloses Forge 33245-T. Risk of damage to production: high.

_18:25:20: _Gun crews alerted.

_18:25:45: _Object disappears from auspex. Ground stations report smaller objects heading towards Valles Marineris region. Projected threat to forge facilities: none.

_18:25:46: _Alert cancelled.

_18:25:47: _Logic Engine #1938392-Z returning to standby mode.

* * *

**Deployment Bay of Black Knights Frigate _Valiant_  
Mars, Upper Atmosphere**

"This is a hot drop," Karen stated matter-of-factly, "So I want you _all_ to be on your toes. The moment these doors open, dive and gain as much distance as possible! I swear, if _any_ of you gets dragged into the Warp, you better hope those daemons show you mercy because I surely won't!"

Practiced regularly solely by the 1st OPAW, the insertion method known as "hot dropping" was considered absolutely insane by the other Orbital Planetary Assault Wings. The maneuver entailed a ship exiting the Warp just outside the target planet's atmosphere with its nose pointed towards the planet surface. A brief engine burn coupled with the inertia from exiting the Warp sent the ship hurtling through the upper atmosphere. There existed a few seconds' gap between reaching the upper atmosphere and slamming into the ground wherein troops could deploy in relative safety. When deployment finished or when the ground drew too close, whichever came first, the ship would enter the Warp and escape. Done properly, small OPAW teams could be deposited on a planet surface with the defenders none the wiser, but anything going wrong could potentially kill everyone involved.

"Three! Two! One! Drop!"

Even after numerous combat drops, the veteran OPAW troopers still couldn't completely ignore the sensation of the ground suddenly falling away underneath them. Simultaneously, the clamps holding them in place released, sending them into freefall. The intense heat generated by the _Valiant_'s re-entry washed over them as they straightened out their bodies and oriented themselves. Seconds later, with a sharp _crack_ and a sickly-green glow, the _Valiant_ re-entered the Warp.

Though every trooper in the squad was equipped with an altimeter, they had lived through enough combat drops to instinctually determine their altitude. With a few subtle movements, the OPAW troopers shifted their stances from headfirst to belly-first, spreading their limbs out to bleed off some of their considerable velocity. For a split second, bright green replaced the rust red of the Martian sky as a dozen pairs of energy wings unfurled in perfect synchrony.

"Target zone ETA is five minutes and counting. Stay low, boys. Don't get bounced!"

The squadron of "Cherub" Knightmares hugged the ground, their stomachs practically scraping against the rocks at several points as they roared over the Martian plains at high speeds. Though they had picked a landing spot far from Mars' main equatorial forges, they were still trying to infiltrate one of the most heavily-guarded worlds in the Imperium.

* * *

_18:26:59: _High-speed objects detected on Servitor P-19980091 initiate defrost cycle.

_18:27:03: _Tracking. No valid IFF code. Deploying storm bolter.

_18:27:05:_ Lost tracking. Notifying Skitarii gar-critical error, no carrier. Jamming detected: unable to establish connection. Warning: balance compromised. Running auto-stabilization routines.

_18:27:06: _Warning: primary auto-balance gyros not responding. Rerouting to secondary…error: secondary auto-balance gyros not responding.

_18:27:07: _Warning: armor compromised. Critical system damage detected. Gun Servitor P-19980091 initiating emergency lockdown protocols.

_18:27:08: _Attempting transfer of scan data. Critical error: primary connections severed. Rerouting to secondary…failed.

_18:27:09: _Critical damage sustained to power supply. Ability to function: compromised. Probability of capture: high. Gun Servitor P-19980091 initiating self-annihilation protocols.

* * *

**War Room  
Space Station** **_Ikaruga_**

"As soon as the Chaos fleet acquires a firing solution, you are immediately engage skimmer drive and jump to the fallback point. Your main goal is to catch the enemy off-balance. Destruction of Abaddon's ships is strictly a secondary objective. From there, you are to rearm at the main fleet and await further orders."

A portion of the gathered holographic Knightmares, each representing a ship captain of the Black Knights fleet, crisply saluted in confirmation. The holograms winked out of existence moments later.

"Exploiting the opportunity they created will be your jobs," Suzaku turned towards another cluster of gathered captains, "As soon as the first group confirms their exit, you are to jump to the area General Kozuki has just indicated. Jump in, open fire, jump out. Don't get drawn into a slugging match with the enemy fleet: you'll be surprised how fast massed fire can drop your hadron fields. From there, you are to break off into wolf packs and harass the enemy fleet at your discretion."

* * *

**Black Knights Base  
Valles Marineris, Mars**

Even during its heyday twenty thousand years ago, when the Black Knights possessed hundreds of hidden bases housing thousands of cells scattered throughout the Terran system, the Valles Marineris base never achieved much notability. Originally designed as a small weapons research lab, the bulk of the structure was buried deep underground, where live-fire tests could be conducted undetected by Imperial sensors. Though its labs contributed to several important advances in Knightmare and FLEIJA technology, the Valles Marineris facility was constantly overshadowed by larger and better-equipped facilities—most notably the base located under the Himalayan mountains—and never saw much use.

The dozen Knightmares that made up the 1st OPAW infiltration team silently touched down onto the red Martian sand, their armored boots visibly sinking into the loose soil. The dust plume generated by nearly twenty-one tons of mechanized battle armor disturbing the long-untouched dust would have triggered every Imperial and Mechanicum sensor in the area, had any existed. The sickly green glow that permeated throughout the darkened canyon abruptly disappeared as twelve pairs of energy "feathers" winked out of existence, their emitters retracting tightly against their owners' backs. Twenty-four pinpricks of green were all that broke up the darkness.

The lead Knightmare's head slowly turned to the right, then to the left, as if to spot anything its motion sensors had missed. Satisfied, it reached for the weapon secured to its chest, and the rounded boxy object, despite having stayed firmly attached during atmospheric re-entry and near-supersonic flight, came free with surprising ease. Seams appeared on the machine gun's heat shield, the previously-smooth and unbroken surface splitting apart to reveal the mechanisms within. The transformation was over within half a second, leaving the Knightmare holding a weapon that appeared almost awkwardly large. The other eleven Knightmares followed suit at nearly the same time.

"Fan out! I don't want any surprises!"

Shouldering their weapons, the twelve Knightmares advanced into the darkened cave.

* * *

**?  
Valles Marineris, Mars**

The arrival of the Black Knights strike force had not gone completely unnoticed. As the OPAW infiltration team cautiously leapfrogged down the long-disused tunnel, sensors dormant for millennia began their lengthy defrost cycles. Information began streaming down into hidden computing hubs as the Knightmares neared their destination.

Deep below the surface of Mars, an ancient presence stirred.

* * *

The Knightmare column reached a seeming dead end then stopped. Karen walked forward, slowly approaching the rock wall that hindered their progress as the other squad members hurriedly took cover behind the nearest rocky outcropping, their light machine guns pointed towards the ancient stone wall. Karen stopped mere centimeters from the wall, reaching and hand out and tapping it in seemingly-random locations. After several seconds, she abruptly drew back, drawing her weapon and dashing behind the closest bit of cover.

The rock wall rumbled for long enough that bringing the ceiling down on the OPAW troopers became a legitimate concern. As several pebbles began bouncing off the Knightmares' armor, the wall parted and slowly slid apart, revealing a large circular chamber sloping sharply downwards. The twelve Knighmares, slightly crouched over and shouldering their weapons, advanced into the room and quickly took up positions around the perimeter. Karen cautiously approached the control panel on the far side of the room and rapidly pressed a series of buttons. Considering the buttons were designed for human fingers, it was quite impressive that she made no mistakes.

The platform rumbled and slowly began descending into the darkness below.

**War Room, Space Station** **_Ikaruga_  
Nine Hours From the Terra System**

"Abaddon's forces will undoubtedly want to hit the equatorial regions first. The Titan forges on the ground and the shipyards in orbit as simply too important to ignore. A bulk of the militia forces deployed to Mars will be committed to these regions."

Suzaku dragged his finger around the holographic projection of Mars, highlighting a number of regions. With the lack of up-to-date charts, the regions he had indicated were more of guidelines than specific battle plans. Kallen joined him on the upper platform, tracing several regions—most of them overlapping Suzaku's indicated deployment zones—on the map.

"If Intelligence's predictions are correct, most of the primary forges should be located in these regions. The militia units deployed in these areas will be accordingly reinforced by OPAW units."

"Even then," Nunnally interrupted, "We won't have the numbers to hold back Abaddon's army for long. Imperial forces will still have to do a bulk of the fighting. CC, how are we doing on the package?"

"The _Valiant_ reports that Lieutenant Schneider and her Raiders have successfully entered Mars' atmosphere. The ship itself is standing by in the shadow of Charon and awaits the Lieutenant's signal." CC deadpanned.

* * *

**Black Knights Base, Valles Marineris  
One Hour Later**

The elevator ride had taken them over a kilometer below the Martian surface, well beyond the reach of Imperial ground-penetrating auspex. A number of the OPAW Raiders had spent the most recent of their off-duty hours watching _Derelict_, a new and rather popular entertainment holo featuring the fictional 101st OPAW Raider Team sent to investigate a seemingly-abandoned Imperial warship. As one might deduce from a holo of its genre, the Raiders had stumbled upon the lair of a Warp-spawned abomination that proceeded to pick them off one by one in spectacularly gory ways. The moviegoing Raiders were regretting their choice of entertainment more and more as they proceeded deeper and deeper into the base.

More than one member of the squad breathed an audible sigh of relief as the endless maze of dark, empty tunnels came to an end and the double doors of a freight elevator greeted them. One of the Raiders leaned an arm against the wall, only to quickly pull back as the lights over the elevator door began blinking. The Raider slowly backed away from the thick metal doors as the light slowly shifted to the left.

"I didn't touch anything!" the Raider stated defensively over the radio under the withering glares of her eleven squadmates.

Karen's reprimand died in her throat when she realized that the Raider had leaned against the wall to the left of the elevator doors. The controls, the lit-up buttons clearly visible in the pitch darkness, were to the _right_. Her next words caused the blood of even the squad's most seasoned Raiders to run cold.

"This place is supposed to be locked down tight…I want everyone to take defensive positions! We're the first humans in this base in over twenty thousand years, so whatever's coming up can't be friendly!"

Raider training, some of the most grueling the Black Knights had to offer, kicked in and the Knightmare team burst into action with nanosecond precision. Two Knightmares flanked the doors, one of them withdrawing a Chaos Mine from a hip-mounted compartment and thumbing the activation switch. Eight of the remaining Knightmares pressed themselves as much into the side walls as they could, weapons shouldered and pointed at the still-closed doors. The last two members of the squad stood right in front of the elevator doors, ducking behind their hadron fields for cover. The gap between the _beep_s that announced the elevator climbing another floor lasted far longer in the Raiders' minds than in reality.

With a final _ding_, the light atop the elevator shifted into the leftmost position. The doors had only opened a crack when the Chaos Mine flew between them. Miniature rocket motors arrested the grenade's momentum, bringing it to a momentary hover near the elevator's ceiling. Then the fuse went off. The electrically-ignited solid state firing mechanism could launch in excess of a million miniature shaped charges per minute. As the weapon's thirty-six firing tubes only held roughly two hundred charges in all, the effect was near-instantaneous.

The elevator doors had slid open roughly ten centimeters when a storm of hadron bolts passed between them. The Knightmares didn't wait to line up a shot or even confirm a target: they simply aimed in the general direction of a motion sensor hit. A brief stream of lighting emerged from inside the elevator, striking one of the Raiders square in the chest and drawing the entire squad's fire in the process. An earsplitting scream echoed throughout the corridor, bringing the Raiders to the point of near-physical pain despite their aural filters.

It was over in less than ten seconds.

"How's Rodriguz doing?"

"Tesla bolt punched straight through her fields, but her armor stopped it. She'll be okay once she catches her breath."

Karen cautiously stepped into the elevator, wary of any surprises their would-be attackers might have left. The Chaos Mine and the ensuing barrage of hadron fire had done a number of the elevator's interior, and there was not a single surface untouched by blast marks. A number of holes were large enough for Karen to easily stick her head and a respectable portion of her torso through. The lack of bodies and the melted remains of a Tesla Carbine confirmed everyone's worst fears.

"Eyes open. We've got Necrons."

A creaking sound instantly derailed Karen's train of thought. Though it had been built to last, the elevator's sheer age and the damage it had sustained proved too much for it to handle. Karen barely deployed her energy wings in time to avoid plunging down the shaft along with the elevator's bottom half.

"That way's out," she added lamely, "Huddle up!"

The twelve Knightmares gathered in a loose circle, one of them pulling up a copy of the facility's schematics and projecting it in the center of the group. Karen scrutinized the projection, hoping to find an alternate entrance. The air ducts looked promising, scaling them would require climbing gear a great deal more capable than their slash harkens, and the shafts were far too narrow for energy wings to fit through. Additionally, Karen had a feeling that the Necrons would search the air ducts and maintenance tunnels first.

"We could use the main hangar launch tube," one of the Raiders stepped forward, highlighting the appropriate area, "It's not far from the main labs, and extraction should arrive before the Necrons can burn through the blast doors."

"Except," another of the Raiders stepped up, "Entering from there would require exiting the canyon. The moment we pass over the lip, every Imperial sensor lights us up. Even if we go undetected, opening those hangar bay doors would definitely trip defenses."

"If we go back three junctions and hang a left, it should lead us to this passage," a third Raider stepped up, pointing to a large vertical tunnel not far from their position, "According to the schematics, it's the main firing range's emergency vent. Other end leads onto the valley floor."

"It's the best we've got," Karen decided, "next closest practical route requires us to go back to the surface."

The hologram winked out.

"Move out!"

* * *

**Black Knights Base, Valles Marineris  
Thirty Minutes Later**

"Woah."

The base's schematics had indicated the vent's immense size, but actually seeing it was a whole different matter. Even with vision enhancements, the Knightmare team couldn't see the bottom. The metal extended for several more meters before gradually fading into reddish-brown bedrock. The shaft was easily wide enough for a Sleipnir to emerge from the Warp, provided the craft's pilot was particularly daring, competent, or just plain lucky.

"Sarkisian, you and me are taking point! Everyone else, we'll check in every twenty-five meters. If more than thirty seconds passes between check-ins, toss down a couple of Chaos Mines and then follow!"

Ignoring the dubiously-good flights of stairs on either side of the metal platform, the two Knightmares stepped towards the edge. After a brief pausing for a moment, as if making a final attempt at gauging the shaft's depth, they casually stepped off the platform. Only a rapidly-fading green glow reassured the other ten members of the 1st OPAW Raider Team that their squadmates had deployed energy wings and were locked in a rapid, controlled descent as opposed to a rapid, uncontrolled—and most definitely lethal—descent.

The reports initially came in rapid succession, but the gap between them lengthened noticeably as the advance team descended deeper and deeper. A long, uncomfortable silence followed Karen calling out the six hundred meter mark. As the seconds ticked away, a few of the Raiders began nervously stroking the hip-mounted compartments that stored their Chaos Mines.

"Touchdown. Send in the next two."

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief as another pair of Knightmares began descending down the shaft.

"Are these…"

"Didn't think any still existed…"

"I think I saw these in a history text once…"

"Alright everyone, sightseeing's over!" Karen announced as the last pair of Knightmares touched down, "It's not like you don't see Knightmares every day!"

Though she hid it well, Karen was every bit as fascinated by the firing range's contents as the rest of her team. Though the Valles Marineris base had been designed as a weapons testing facility, it had been converted into a scrapyard barely ten years after completion. The chamber where one of the first modern FLEIJA warheads had been successfully detonated now played host to hundreds, if not thousands, of mothballed Knightmares lined up in neat rows. The majority of them were second-generation clunkers, barely recognizable as Knightmares, but Karen could spot several first-generation models as well.

"Fan out! Rodriguz, Letsinger, secure the control room! Lindow, Ellerbe, get the auxiliary power supply back online! We need those blast doors warmed up and ready to close at a moment's notice! Everyone else, on me!"

* * *

**War Room, Space Station** **_Ikaruga_**  
**Five Hours From the Terra System**

"How are we doing?" Nunnally asked, mostly out of desire to break the uncomfortable silence in the war room.

"No word from Lieutenant Schneider yet," CC deadpanned, serving only to confirm what the governor already knew.

"It's still four hours before the allotted time runs out," Kallen interjected, "but I've dispatched a Sleipnir and the 2nd OPAW Raiders to the _Valiant_ just in case."

"Didn't Intelligence establish a likely Necron presence in that region?" Suzaku uneasily ventured, "Wouldn't that be too much for a single team, Raiders or no, to handle?"

"Perhaps," CC admitted, "But a larger force would alert Imperial defenses and possibly jeopardize everything we've spent the last twenty thousand years fighting for. I have complete faith in Lieutenant Schneider's abilities."

The other three leaders looked at the green-haired woman as if she had grown a second head.

"Did she just…"

"Not even a trace of sarcasm…"

"What?" CC snapped.

* * *

**Black Knights Base  
Valles Marineris, Mars**

The eight Raiders advanced through the twisting hallways of the ancient research base steadily but briskly, their eyes wide open and searching for the telltale glow of Necron technology. Between all of them, every vision mode available to a "Cherub" Knightmare was currently being utilized and the Raiders constantly switched off. Nanites infused in the outer layers of their armor had gradually altered the Knightmares' camouflage patterns to better suit the surroundings: mottled red and brown gave way to splotchy greys of varying shades and then gave way to vaguely geometric patterns of dark blues and blacks as they advanced further into the darkness. The effect was largely psychological: Necron Warriors "saw" via motion sensors, not visual ones.

The lead Knightmare lifted its fist into the air, keeping it at roughly head level for a few seconds before waving downwards. The other seven Knightmares came to a near-immediate halt, rapidly rearranging themselves into a roughly circular outward-facing formation, their hadron light machine guns pointed straight ahead, before crouching down.

"We've got movement straight ahead. Looks like a patrol."

The seven Raiders' heads slowly panned around, their operators turning to face the blinking objective markers that suddenly appeared on their HUDs. The silent, electronically-sharpened forms of five lumbering Necron Warriors slowly rounded the corner, their formidable Gauss Flayers pointed ahead of them. Several hands tightened over gun grips as the Warriors paused. The quintet of Warriors stood still for several seconds before splitting into two groups, two Warriors heading back down the hallway and the other three heading into a perpendicular corridor.

"Dammit. The Shinkirou's reported storage bay is down that way," Karen placed an objective marker on the hallway the trio of Warriors had started down, "We'll have to take them out."

* * *

"This is Capelli. I'm in position."

Private Louisa Vanwingerden hardly acknowledged the incoming information, her eyes instead glued to the skeletal Necron Warriors mere inches barely a meter in front of her. Being an OPAW, and a Raider at that, she was no stranger to Necrons, but she had never seen one so _close_. She repeated her drill instructor's lessons in her head as she followed the lumbering automaton in order to resist the increasingly-strong urge to unload into the thing's back. Necron warriors were strong, but stupid and stuck to predictable patterns without an Immortal commanding them. They had motion sensors in place of eyes, but they could be fooled by sticking to their rear and moving at the same or a similar velocity as them.

"Good. Take them out on my mark. Three."

Vanwingerden reached for her Knightmare's right shoulder compartment, the hadron saber stored within sliding out to meet her grasping fingers.

"Two."

Louisa quickened her pace slightly, significantly lessening the gap while not moving fast enough to trigger the thing's motion sensors. The Warrior was close enough that she could make out the individual dents and scores on the thing's armor.

"One."

Louisa thumbed the saber's activation switch.

"Mark!"

Louisa lunged forward, her sudden motion tripping the Warrior's motion sensors. Alerted, the Necron began turning around, but millennia of corrosion hindered its joints. The considerable mass of Louisa's Knightmare slammed into the Warrior. As the automaton lost balance and tipped over, Louisa wrapped an arm around its neck and skewered it through the torso with her hadron saber. She savagely ripped the blade to the side, tearing a great gash in the thing's flank.

The Warrior hit the ground with an audible _clang_. Louisa scrambled to her feet, grabbing the Necron's right arm and threw her weight into twisting it as she dropped her knee into her opponent's shoulder. As she applied increasing torque to the Warrior's arm, Louisa stabbed her hadron saber through the Warrior's spine, yanking the blade downwards and carving into its torso almost down to the pelvis.

As the Warrior's self-defense protocols kicked in and attempted to repair the extensive damage, Louisa scrambled to her feet. With a savage stomp, she crushed the Warrior's head. A piercing scream echoed through the halls as the Warrior "died."

"This is Vanwingerden. Target's down."

Four more reports of downed Necron Warriors issued over the squad channel, though such reports were rendered largely redundant by the echoing screams.

"This is Ellerbe!" another voice issued over the squad channel, "Auxiliary power is back online, but we're under attack by Necron forces! A Deathmark's got us pinned down! We're gonna get overrun at this rate!"

"Dammit," Karen interjected, "They definitely know we're here now. Move! Move! Move!"

The screeching of landspinners filled the once-quiet hallways.

* * *

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Three: The Fleet**

_Name:_ Ikaruga_  
Length:_ 4,000 Kilometers_  
Displacement: _Unknown (Presumed to be in the Sextillions of Metric Tons)_  
Armor:_ (Thickness Unknown, Presumed to be in the Tens of Meters) Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons:_ Many Quad FLEIJA Turrets, Many Dual Hadron Gun Turrets, Many Dual Hadron Beam Turrets_  
Defenses: _Many Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, Many Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support:_ Many Drydocks, Many Shipyards, Many Hangar Bays (Many Excalibur-class Attack Craft, Many Sleipnir-class Drop Shuttles, Many Valkyrie-class Utility Vessels), Many Docking Bays_  
Misc. Systems:_ Many Factories, Many Farms, Many Refineries, Many Mining Facilities, Many Shipyards, Many FTL Communications Repeaters, Many Sensor Arrays, Communications Interceptor, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ Many Cold Fusion Reactors_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Propulsion:_ Many Gravitric Drives_  
Crew: _Millions_  
Description:_ The flagship and lifeblood of the Black Knights fleet, it is unclear whether this _Ikaruga_ is the same _Ikaruga_, albeit heavily upgraded, used by the Black Knights to evacuate Earth prior to the Age of Strife or an entirely new vessel. Close to the size of a small moon, the _Ikaruga_ supports a population of millions, as well as the Black Knights fleet, with its onboard production facilities. While other ships could take over these functions, none can match the sheer output of the _Ikaruga_. The vessel also plays host to some of the most sophisticated communications gear ever built, capable of sending and receiving, as well as intercepting and decoding, messages from across the galaxy. Such proves vital to both maintaining secrecy and coordinating Black Knights forces. The _Ikaruga_ bristles with defensive weaponry, and the rest of the Black Knights fleet is suicidally protective of this incredibly important ship. Imperial forces have actually glimpsed the _Ikaruga_ before, but, due to the grainy quality of captured images and its enormous size, the Inquisition logged it as a previously-undiscovered Eldar craftworld.

_Name:_ Arcadia-class Production Ship_  
Length:_ 4450 meters_  
Displacement:_ 3,600,000 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _7 Meters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _30x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets_  
Defenses: _480x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 18x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support: _10x Hangar Bay (216x Excalibur-class Attack Craft, 72x Valkyrie-class Utility Vessel)_  
Misc. Systems:_ 16x Farms, 16x Factories, 4x Refineries, Shipyard, FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Array, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ 8x Cold Fusion Reactors_  
Propulsion:_ 12x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _25,000 (w/ Workers)_  
Description: _Dwarfing even the largest Black Knights dreadnoughts and boasting extremely heavy defenses, one might mistake the Arcadia-class vessels for super-dreadnoughts. However, these titans are minimally-armed for their size and carry a relatively small defensive complement of Excalibur-class attack craft. Instead of weaponry, every available cubic meter of space is given to manufacturing and agricultural facilities. Vast quantities of food can be grown inside its farms and its factories can churn out anything from children's toys to Knightmares. Each Arcadia has seventy-two Valkyrie-class utility vessels, given the dual tasks of providing the production ship with the needed raw materials and ferrying the finished products to the rest of the fleet, permanently assigned to it. The shipbuilding capabilities of an Arcadia-class vessel are nothing short of incredible: they possess the only facilities outside of the _Ikaruga_ capable of constructing and refitting Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts, and several Arcadias working in tandem can even build another Arcadia. These ships are absolutely vital to the Black Knights' survival: they almost never venture away from the fleet's center and are under extremely heavy escort if they do.

_Name:_ Yggdrasil-class Dreadnought_  
Length:_ 1150 meters_  
Displacement:_ 300,000 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _3 Meters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _18x Octuple Heavy Hadron Beam Turrets, 80x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets, 20x Quad FLEIJA Turrets_?  
Defenses:_ 60x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 5x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Counter Measures Package_  
Fleet Support: _Drydock, 4x Hangar Bay (144x Excalibur-class Attack Craft, 20x Sleipnir-class Drop Shuttles)_  
Misc. Systems:_ 5x FTL Communications Repeaters, 4x Sensor Arrays, 6x Hydroponics Bays, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ 4x Cold Fusion Reactors_  
Propulsion:_ 8x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _6,500 (w/ Troops)_  
Description:_ The largest and most fearsome of the Black Knights' combat fleet, the Yggdrasil-class is quite possibly the most powerful vessel ever built by human hands. With its overwhelming firepower and squadrons of Excalibur-class attack craft, a single Yggdrasil can quickly turn the tides of battle. Most fearsome of this dreadnought's myriad weapons are the eighteen octuple heavy hadron beam cannons, capable of reducing entire fleets to flaming hulks with a few volleys. Equipped with a small drydock capable of accommodating destroyer-class vessels and smaller, the Yggdrasil-class can serve as a mothership for long-range independent missions. Due to the massive investment of resources and personnel required to build, maintain, and crew a Yggdrasil-class, however, only a few have been built. They, as a result, leave the Black Knights fleet very rarely and only for the most critical missions. Only the most experienced captains are entrusted with commanding such a juggernaut, and their crews are among the finest in the Black Knights fleet. Only one Yggdrasil-class vessel has ever been lost: the _Berlin_ during the closing days of the First Necrotic War.

_Name:_ Trundholm-class Cruiser_  
Length:_ 750 meters_  
Displacement:_ 100,000 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _2.5 Meters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _10x Quad Heavy Hadron Beam Turrets, 50x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets, 12x Quad FLEIJA Turrets_  
Defenses: _40x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 3x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Counter Measures Package_  
Fleet Support:_ 2x Hangar Bay (72x Excalibur-class Attack Craft, 10x Sleipnir-class Drop Shuttles)_  
Misc. Systems:_ 3x FTL Communications Repeaters, 2x Sensor Arrays, 4x Hydroponics Bays, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ 3x Cold Fusion Reactors_  
Propulsion:_ 6x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _4,000 (w/ Troops)_  
Description: _In keeping with the Black Knights' doctrine of flexibility, the Trundholm-class cruiser is capable of taking on both carrier and warship roles, bringing squadrons of attack craft and heavy firepower into the fray. Though lacking the Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts' sheer firepower, Trundholm-class vessels are faster, more agile, and significantly cheaper to produce. However, its ten quad heavy hadron beam turrets and twelve quad FLEIJA turrets are more than capable of causing massive mayhem. To compound their fearsome firepower, Trumdholm-class cruisers rarely travel alone: they often travel in pairs, with squadrons of Avalon-class destroyers in support, and if travelling in large groups of six or more, the presence of a Yggdrasil-class dreadnought in the area is guaranteed. Though lacking drydock facilities, Trundholm-class vessels can still act as motherships for long-range, long-duration missions. Onboard hydroponics bays significantly extend their cruising range and even allow them to resupply other ships to a limited extent. Trundholm-class cruisers represent a tremendous investment of resources, though not to the extent of the Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts, and, as a result, are still a relatively rare sight beyond the Black Knights fleet.

_Name:_ Valkyrie-class Utility Vessel_  
Length:_ Varies (675 Meters When Unloaded)_  
Displacement:_ Varies (25,000 Metric Tons When Unloaded)_  
Armor: _1.5 Meters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _Varies (10x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets When Unloaded)_  
Defenses: _Varies (30x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 2x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package When Unloaded)_  
Fleet Support: _Varies (Not Equipped When Unloaded)_  
Misc. Systems:_ Varies (FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Array, 2x Hydroponics Bays, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint When Unloaded)_  
Power Source:_ 2x Cold Fusion Reactors_  
Propulsion:_ 6x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _Varies (150 When Unloaded)_  
Description:_ An unloaded Valkyrie-class does not look like much: merely a long spine with engines on one end and a bridge module on the other. By itself sparsely armed but well-protected, the Valkyrie-class requires constant escort when straying from the main fleet. However, without such vessels, the entire Black Knights fleet would grind to a halt. The Valkyrie-class was originally designed as a bulk freighter that, by merely attaching the cargo containers onto the spine, could be quickly and easily loaded and unloaded. Within a month of its introduction, however, the design's true potential was realized. While still capable of serving its original role, the Valkyrie-class can easily be adapted for any task by swapping out modules on the spine. The civilians of the Black Knights fleet use these ships for every role imaginable, from salvage ships to mining vessels to factory ships to mobile farms. The Black Knights Military Arm occasionally uses ships of this type, usually as electronic warfare and intelligence vessels, though several enterprising captains have docked Excalibur-class attack craft onto the spine, turning the vessel into an escort carrier.

_Name:_ Avalon-class Destroyer_  
Length:_ 325 meters_  
Displacement:_ 60,000 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _2 Meters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons:_ 4x Hadron Beam Cannons, 30x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets, 8x FLEIJA Tubes_  
Defenses:_ 20x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 2x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support:_ Hangar Bay (36x Excalibur-class Attack Craft, 5x Sleipnir-class Drop Shuttles)_  
Misc. Systems: _2x FTL Communications Repeaters, 2x Sensor Arrays, 2x Hydroponics Bays, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ 2x Cold Fusion Reactors_  
Propulsion:_ 4x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _1,750 (w/ Troops)_  
Description:_ Though much smaller than both the Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts and the Trundholm-class cruisers, Avalon-class destroyers are cheap, reliable, and very capable, representing a significant step up from the Camelot-class frigate. Though one of the oldest designs still in service, it packs a fearsome punch and still proves far superior to any similarly-sized ship. Any enemy ship that underestimates an Avalon-class destroyer never makes that mistake again, provided that it survives the encounter. With support, an Avalon-class ship can even take down a Necron Harvest Ship, a capability demonstrated several times throughout the three Necrotic Wars. As the most visible symbol of the Black Knights' military power, the Avalon-class forms the backbone of their space-based military forces, spearheading many smaller operations. With a relatively small size and mass, Avalon-class vessels are quite fast and agile, capable of transitioning to and from FTL with little difficulty. As a result, it is the preferred mothership of the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing, capable of transitioning into real space above a planet, deploy its complement of troops, and transition back out before enemy defenses can react.

_Name:_ Camelot-class Frigate_  
Length:_ 125 meters_  
Displacement:_ 8,000 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _1 Meter Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _2x Hadron Beam Cannons, 20x Dual Hadron Gun Turrets, 4x FLEIJA Tubes_  
Defenses: _15x Dual Hadron Gatling Point-Defense Turrets, 2x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support: _Hangar Bay (12x Excalibur-class Attack Craft)_  
Misc. Systems:_ FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Array, Hydroponics Bay, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ Cold Fusion Reactor_  
Propulsion:_ 3x Mini Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _350_  
Description:_ Small and very nimble, most vessels would find it nearly impossible to hit a Camelot-class frigate. Though too small to mount heavy hadron beam turrets, Camelot-class ships still feature two forward-facing heavy hadron beam cannons, allowing them to wreck immense havoc as they weave in and out of enemy fleet formations. Cheap to produce, easy to maintain, and requiring only a relatively modest crew, Camelot-class ships are built in large quantities by Black Knights shipyards. Every Black Knights starship crew has spent at least a few months aboard a Camelot-class frigate, as their wide availability makes them popular choices for training ships. Though equipped with a skimmer drive, these ships only very rarely venture far from the Black Knights fleet by themselves. Usually, they operate in small packs of three to five ships in support of an Avalon-class destroyer, creating a fearsome battle group with relatively little expenditure of manpower and resources. One notable exception is the _Valiant_: as the legendary 1st OPAW's mothership, it is often dispatched on missions far behind enemy lines, where speed and stealth are critical.

_Name:_ Damocles_  
Length:_ 100 meters_  
Displacement:_ 6,500 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _75 Centimeters Layered Ceramite-Plasteel-Adamantium_  
Weapons: _4x Plasma Lances, 6x "Breacher" Torpedo Tubes, 2x FLEIJA Tubes_  
Defenses: _Void Shield Emitter, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support: _None_  
Misc. Systems:_ FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Array_  
Power Source:_ Plasma Reactor_  
Propulsion:_ 4x Plasma Drives_  
FTL:_ Warp Drive_  
Crew: _300_  
Description:_ Ships of the _Damocles_' size and specifications are generally used as scout ships. Small and lightly-armed and –protected, they used their immense speed and agility to evade larger enemy ships. That fact was true during the Dark Age of Technology. With the loss of so much knowledge since then, the _Damocles_ has become one of the most formidable ships in Imperial space, capable of taking on entire fleets by itself. Its four plasma lances can fire in rapid succession, punching through modern defenses with frightening ease. Its "Breacher" missiles seek out the minute gaps in void shield coverage and force their way through before burrowing into a ship's armor and detonating its warhead, inflicting horrific damage on even the largest ships. Two FLEIJA tubes, mounted below the ship's nose, allow it to level entire continents given enough time. Used as the Emperor's command ship during the Age of Strife and the subsequent Great Crusade, the _Damocles_ was submerged into Saturn's atmosphere on the eve of the Horus Heresy. It was destroyed by Abbadon's forces shortly before the Black Knights' arrival.

_Name:_ Sleipnir-class Drop Shuttle_  
Length:_ 30 meters_  
Displacement:_ 450 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _25 Centimeters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _3x Dual Hadron Machine Gun Turrets_  
Defenses: _2x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support: _None_  
Misc. Systems:_ FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Package, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint_  
Power Source:_ Mini Cold Fusion Reactor_  
Propulsion:_ 2x Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Enhanced Skimmer Drive_  
Crew: _56 (w/ Troops)_  
Description:_ At a mere thirty meters in length, the Sleipnir-class is the smallest FTL-capable ship in the Black Knights armada. Essentially a cargo container with engines and a cockpit attached, the Sleipnir design is cheap, rugged, and simple to manufacture. Capable of short-range interstellar "hops," Sleipnir-class drop shuttles can slip into places even a Camelot-class frigate would have trouble infiltrating. These shuttles use their minimal offensive abilities—in the form of a trio of belly-mounted turrets—to clear out drop zones prior to final approach. Their negligible offensive capabilities are more than compensated for by their considerable defenses: a significant portion of the design's mass consists of its thick armor plating and redundant hadron field generators. Combined with their almost-comically oversized engines, Sleipnir-class drop shuttles are capable of delivering up to fifty Knightmare-equipped troops or an equivalent amount of equipment to the battlezone quickly and in relative safety. Though used almost exclusively by militia units, approximately half a dozen Sleipnirs have been specially converted into command and control vessels for use by the OPAW's elite Raider Teams.

_Name:_ Excalibur-class Attack Craft_  
Length:_ 8 meters_  
Displacement:_ 7.5 Metric Tons_  
Armor: _15 Centimeters Rutalium Carbide (Composition Classified)_  
Weapons: _6x Hadron Machine Guns, 16x FLEIJA Missiles_  
Defenses: _2x Hadron Fields, Electronic Countermeasures Package, Electronic Counter-Countermeasures Package_  
Fleet Support: _None_  
Misc. Systems:_ FTL Communications Repeater, Sensor Package, Nanite Self-Repair System, Nanite-Based Camouflage Smart-Paint, Cockpit Module (Optional)_  
Power Source:_ Mini Cold Fusion Reactor_  
Propulsion:_ 2x Mini Gravitric Drives_  
FTL:_ Not Equipped_  
Crew: _1_  
Description:_ As the latest multirole attack craft in the Black Knights military, the Excalibur-class is capable of carrying out a wide variety of missions, ranging from capital ship killing to dogfighting to providing close air support to ground forces. Armed with six forward-facing hadron machine guns and sufficient hardpoints to carry sixteen FLEIJA missiles, the Excalibur-class packs a quantity of firepower normally associated with bombers. Very small, blindingly fast, and extremely nimble, Excaliburs are known to be virtually impossible for most enemy point defenses to even track, much less shoot down. Launched in waves from Black Knights ships, an experienced Excalibur squadron can cripple, even destroy, an enemy capital ship in just a few attack runs. Though an optional cockpit module is available, the vast majority of pilots prefer to directly connect their Knightmares to the Excalibur's systems, increasing responsiveness and pilot survivability while also slightly decreasing the craft's overall target profile. However, despite their fearsome combat capabilities, these craft never venture very far from their motherships, as they lack skimmer drives, the most glaring weakness of this otherwise-excellent design.

* * *

**Closing Remarks:** Once again, sorry for the long wait. I know this chapter is fairly boring, but the battles in the next chapter should make up for that. Additionally, it has come to my attention that this fanfic has received a mention on TVTropes. If anyone with an account with like to start up a Tropes page, you have my blessing.


	8. Chapter Seven: Beneath the Red Sands II

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass_? Not mine. _Warhammer 40k?_ Also not mine.

**Author's Note:** I really have to stop promising more rapid updates. Luckily, I've come into some pockets of free time lately. I was able to complete this chapter yesterday night, and the next one is in the works. As much as I hate the fluff of the new Necron codex, it has given me so many new toys to play with. I haven't read it all the way through, so I might butcher some of the fluff. I ask you to bear with it. Please?

As a warning, the first section of this chapter may hit on some sensitive topics. If you're offended by the concept of euthanasia, feel free to skip to the first line break. I won't hold it against you at all. I'm not going to post some long-winded justification for this segment, because I've found that makes things worse. Instead, I leave it to you to choose to read it or not and make your own judgements.

**Chapter Seven: Beneath the Red Sands, Part II**

**Auxiliary Reactor, Black Knights Base  
Valles Marineris, Mars**

At the time of the Valles Marineris facility's construction, controlled-singularity weapons such as the modern-day FLEIJA warheads existed only on paper. Any and all data regarding their destructive potential lay firmly in the realm of educated guesswork at best and blind speculation at worst. As a result, weapons test facilities such as the one at Valles Marineris were built especially tough: not only did their walls have to safely contain such detonations, they had to do so without alerting the rapidly-expanding human presence on the surface. The unintended, but much welcome, side effect of this design decision was that the walls were particularly good at absorbing Gauss and Tesla blasts.

"Dammit! That Death Mark keeps on jumping around! Where's a spook when you need one?"

Tia Ellerbe slid out from behind the wall and unloaded a long stream of hadron bolts into the corridor. Necron Warriors charged en masse, and the single long corridor leading into the auxiliary reactor practically funneled them into the Raider's shots. Return fire, though heavy, proved ineffective, hitting the walls and the partially-closed blast doors and leaving deep gouges in the metal. The powerful hadron bolts, on the other hand, pierced through several Warriors at a time before dissipating, scything off limbs and blowing enormous chunks out of torsos. The high-pitched death-wails of dying Necrons and the sickly-green of phase-outs were gratifyingly common, but the sheer press of bodies kept the attack force moving forward.

Resting her light machine gun on the lip of the blast door, Tia ignited one of her hadron fields as the Necron return fire grew steadily more accurate. From the gouges on the blast doors, she could actually track the progress of the shots zeroing in on her position. It wasn't long afterwards that her field flared up for the first time as it dissipated the powerful blast. Unfazed, Tia continued pouring a steady stream of gunfire into the Necron ranks.

"Look out!"

Tia's companion, a Raider by the name of Mark Lindow, barely ducked in time to avoid the concentrated leptonic beam. Of all the Necrons' borderline-magical technologies, the Synaptic Disintegrator Rifle ranked among the most feared: even a glancing hit could burn out a target's mind, and a direct hit was almost always instantly fatal. Even the heavy hadron fields and thick armor plating of the Archangel Knightmares couldn't absorb more than a few shots, much less the comparatively-thin protections of a Cherub.

"My hadron fields are about to collapse! Chaos Mines deployed!"

Two disks flew out into the hallway, hovering in midair for a split second amongst the Necron horde before unleashing a storm of shaped charges. Mark had once heard a Psychic Special Warfare operative remark offhand that Chaos Mines made a ripping sound when discharging. Unfortunately, the devices discharged far too quickly for a normal human to perceive, so the two Raiders timed their attacks with Warriors' death-screams instead.

"Tia, behind you!"

Tia whirled around just in time to find herself faceplate-to-faceplate with a Necron Death Mark. Even the battle-hardened Raider felt a shiver go down her spine as the thing's mask somehow radiated anger. Judging from the thing's lack of a rifle and heavily-damaged forearm guards and hands, Tia could make a few guesses as to why. Before she could react, the one of the Necron's hands shot out and gripped her around the throat, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. As she pounded futilely at the Death Mark's arms, Mark swung his machine gun around and unloaded into the thing's back.

The Death Mark turned around, tossing Tia aside and focusing its attention onto Mark. The Raider sent another burst in its direction, only for the Death Mark to phase from existence and appear in front of him. A vicious backhand sent the machine gun flying out of Mark's hands and skidding along the floor, stopping well out of his reach. The Death Mark raised its other hand, now aglow with a disruption field, for the fatal blow. Redirecting the attack slightly with his forearm, Mark moved in and countered with several rapid jabs to the Death Mark's torso. Before his opponent could retaliate, Mark hooked an ankle around the Death Mark's and pulled the leg out from under it.

Mark rolled backwards as the Death Mark staggered and fell. It seemingly glared at him before phasing out once again. Allowing himself a sigh of relief, Mark turned to retrieve his fallen machine gun. He didn't even have time to shout a warning as the Death Mark rematerialized behind Tia and impaled her with a disruption field-coated hand. The Raider slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely, as soon as the Death Mark withdrew its hand.

Mark charged, firing his machine gun the entire time and determined to not give the Necron a moment to react. The Death Mark staggered from the multiple hits, unable to focus long enough to dematerialize. The Raider quickly closed in, smacking the Necron across the faceplate with his machine gun butt before throwing the automaton over his hip.

With a vicious roar and equally-vicious stomp, he crushed the Death Mark's head. The death-scream proved oddly satisfying.

"Lieutenant, this is Lindow," Mark spared a glance outside, "The auxiliary reactor is secure for now, but Ellerbe is down. Repeat, Ellerbe is down."

"How bad is it?"

It didn't take a doctor or a close inspection to assess the Raider's condition.

"Bad. She's not going to make it unless we get her back to the fleet _right now_."

"Dammit. Do whatever you can."

Lindow knelt down besides his dying squadmate. The Knightmare frame had nearly emptied its onboard supply of medical foam in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. It was simply far too little done far too late. A large portion of her blood, far more than any adult could lose and still live, was currently pooled on the floor around her.

"I'm not going to make it, am I?"

It was clear that even speech was taxing for Tia in her current state.

"Don't be silly, Tia. You're a Raider. This is just a scratch."

Mark reached into a hip-mounted storage compartment and retrieved a small container, connecting it to the external feed on Tia's Knightmare. A near-inaudible _hiss_ reached both their ears as the Knightmare's onboard medical suite injected the contents into the Raider's bloodstream.

"Here. Something to dull the pain."

Mark was lying, and they both knew it.

"Hey Mark?" Tia quietly asked.

"Yeah?"

"The next Death Mark we encounter? His ass is mine."

* * *

**Experimental Knightmare Storage Bay  
Black Knights Base**

The narrow corridors of the Valles Marineris base proved a boon to the Raiders: with their landspinners deployed, they moved fast enough to temporarily confuse Necron Warriors' motion sensors. In those crucial fractions of a second, they could close in and slice the automaton to ribbons without fear of retaliation. By the time the alarm was sounded and a response mustered, the Raiders were long gone. Several minutes of hairpin turns and hadron saber drive-bys bought them to the blast doors of the experimental Knightmare storage bay.

"Defensive positions! Get these doors open!"

Two Knightmares flanked the armored doors, pressing themselves against the wall and holding their light machine guns against their bodies. Two more pressed themselves against the wall further down the hallway, machine guns at the ready. Three more crouched in the middle of the hallway, hadron fields deployed with machine guns in one hand pointed into the room beyond. The final Knightmare began rapidly tapping away at the keypad beside the door.

"Door's open! Get ready!"

Before the two flanking Knightmares could lean around the edges, gouts of lightning issued from the opening portal. They punched clean through a Raider's field and struck him in the chest. The Raider sank to his knees and convulsed for a few seconds before falling over, its eyes going dark. His lifesigns on the squad uplink disappeared.

"Sarkisian's down!"

Two Chaos Mines flew into the room, followed by seven Knightmares storming through the doors seconds later, hadron fields deployed. Necron Warriors and Immortals on the catwalks above fired down on the Raiders. Several Raiders scrambled for cover as their hadron fields flickered and died from the strain.

"Chandler! Capelli! Vanwingerden! Clear the catwalks!"

Three Cherubs deployed their energy wings and rocketed upwards, their sudden ascent catching the Necron forces by surprise. Before they could recover, the Raiders tossed a dozen Chaos Mines into their midst, the shaped charges shredding anything in their proximity and carving great swathes out of the Necron hordes. A storm of hadron bolts followed, scything down Warriors and Immortals alike by the dozens. To their dismay, every Necron that fell seemed to be replaced by two others.

"Dammit! They just don't stop coming!"

"Use your meson bursts! Bring the catwalks down!"

The storm of red bolts was soon joined by a hurricane of green spears. Necron hit directly were destroyed outright along with the several behind and beside them. The now severely-weakened catwalks began creaking and groaning under the weight of so many Necrons, both destroyed and ones still fighting. The Raiders saw no problem in aiding its fall with slash harkens. The three Raiders directed their bombardment downwards, following the path of the remaining Nercrons as they fell.

"All cle-"

A single Immortal had managed to avoid the worst of the meson bombardment and, somewhat cushioned by the biometal bodies of its brethren, managed to hit the ground sufficiently intact to function. Though its damaged servos protested and static clouded its vision, it raised its Tesla carbine, took aim at one of the airborne Raiders, and fired. The Raider's armor, though heavily damaged from the previous firefight, absorbed a majority of the blast. Unfortunately, enough still made it through to fry the Raider within.

"Capelli's down!"

The six remaining Knightmares poured gunfire in the direction of the shot, reducing the Immortal to scrap metal in seconds.

* * *

**War Room, Space Station** **_Ikaruga_**  
**Four Hours From the Terra System**

"I've just received a sitrep from the _Valiant_. Lieutenant Schneider has just reported in," Kallen summarized, glancing down at the dataslate.

"Have they managed to retrieve the package yet?" CC inquired impatiently.

"No. However, they are in close proximity to the objective and expect to make a pickup soon. Three Raiders are confirmed KIA, but they are confident they can complete the mission."

"These are _Necrons_ we're talking about here!" Suzaku interrupted, "Three Raiders were killed just getting to the objective! They'll still have to fight their way out through a horde of enemies well aware of their presence!"

"We can't afford to pull them out now. Compared to the value of the package, the lives of Lieutenant Schneider and her team are expendable," Nunnally interjected.

Even the normally-apathetic CC turned around to face the governor. Though the director's face remained as stoic as ever, her eyes widened imperceptibly.

"I know it sounds crass, and I hate it as much as you do, but we are currently in a state of war! If Abaddon's forces discover the package, the Imperium dies! Can you imagine his armies equipped with that kind of technology? Not even we would be able to save Earth then!"

"If they can't retrieve it," Kallen added, "They know enough to destroy it."

* * *

**Black Knights Base, Valles Marineris  
One Hour Later**

Karen took advantage of the brief lull in fighting to pull up her chronometer. They had been on Mars for barely seven hours, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that they were just hitting the atmosphere. A quarter of their fighting strength had perished just reaching the Shinkirou, and more would inevitably follow as they fought their way out. As one might guess from the OPAW Raiders' unofficial motto, "Suicide missions are our _only_ missions," Karen was no stranger to such casualties. That didn't prevent the most recent trio of deaths from hitting particularly hard: with Capelli's death, the "old guard," the members of the 1st OPAW Raiders when Karen had assumed command, was gone.

Karen took a few deep breaths and steeled herself: she couldn't dwell on such thoughts now. There were eight other, still alive, Raiders depending on her.

"Seals disengaged. See if you can pry the doors open now."

One of the unfortunate victims of the firefight had been the storage bay's registry computer. What would have been a quick and easy task turned into a potentially tedious and time-consuming one, as the Raiders would have to open each pod individually and examine the contents. Worse, many of the pods' circuitry had corroded over time, necessitating a manual release of the seals and usage of brute force to open the pods.

With a grunt, Karen finally pried the doors open wide enough to peek inside. She could only groan in frustration when the sight of a chunky, boxlike Knightmare greeted her. It was a late second-generation design at best, and the design seemed flimsy even by the standards of that era. She suspected it was some unsuccessful experiment in cost-cutting measures.

"Shit! We've got more Necrons incoming!"

Several Gauss beams lanced through the air towards the Raider team. Most of them impacted harmlessly against the walls and storage pods, but one managed to strike a Raider directly in the chest. The blast left a deep gouge in his armor but ultimately failed to penetrate it. The winded, but still very much alive, Raider was dragged to safety by a squadmate.

"Squad, defensive positions! Vanwingerden, you're with me!"

As she and Louisa hurriedly opened the remaining pods, Karen kept the firefight in the corner of her eye. The remaining Raiders had dove behind whatever cover they could find, occasionally emerging to take potshots at the advancing Necron horde. None dared to stick their head out for more than a few shots at a time: the return fire, though about as accurate as usual, was still sufficiently dense to deplete a hadron field in seconds.

* * *

"Chandler, you're too far forward!"

Eric Chandler glanced down at the sensor readout, cursing to himself as he realized just how isolated his position was. Several hostile red crosshairs even lay between him and the friendly green ones on the map. He twisted around, bringing his machine gun to bear just as a Necron Warrior passed his position. The sudden, large movement alerted the Warrior to his presence, but its ancient and corroded joints didn't allow it to react in time to avoid being shredded by hadron bolts.

"I'm falling back! Cover me!"

"We've got yo-holy shit! Chandler, get down! We got a Death Ma-"

"Walnder's down!"

Karen could only watch helplessly as another lifesign disappeared off the uplink.

"Chandler, get down!"

By the time the warning registered, Chandler had already sprung to his feet, machine gun at the ready. Before he could take even a single step backwards or take cover, the Death Mark struck again. The leptonic beam bored straight between his Knightmare's eyes. The now-pilotless suit went limp and fell over, hitting the ground with a loud _thud_. Chandler's lifesigns disappearing was redundant.

* * *

Karen allowed herself a few triumphant exclamations as the seventh pod opened yielded the familiar lines of the Shinkirou. She reached into her hip compartment, pulling out roughly a half-dozen smooth, oblong disks. Karen hurriedly slapped the miniature grav-lifts onto the back of the pod, signaling Louisa to start tipping the thing over as she was activating the last device.

"We've got the package! Plow the road, everyone!"

Enormous swathes of the Necron hordes vanished before the tide of green. The Raiders gave the enemy no chance to recover: deploying their landspinners, they roared through the newly-created gap. Clumsy and disorganized Gauss and Tesla volleys made a valiant effort to intercept the speeding Knightmares to no avail.

As the Raiders neared the end of the corridor, one of the Gauss blasts struck home. The shot failed to penetrate, but the force of the blast threw the affected Raider's balance off for a critical split-second. The second hit failed to penetrate, leaving another deep gouge in the Knightmare's armor. The third and fourth hits met with similar results. As the staggered Raider regained his balance, Karen dared to hope that the remaining members of the 1st Raiders would make it out of the current meat grinder alive. Her hopes were quickly dashed when a Tesla blast punched through the Raider's armor.

"Dulmage's lifesigns just went dark!"

* * *

Karen twisted her body slightly, bringing her high-speed Knightmare to a halt as the last of her squad crossed the threshold of the armored doors.

"Vanwingerden, get these doors closed! Fillman, suppressing fire!

Though the rate of fire of their hadron light machine guns was prodigious, two Raiders simply could not put out the volume of support fire needed in their current situation. Though Necrons still fell, they were clearly drawing closer and closer with each passing second.

"Got it! Doors are closing!"

"Chaos Mines out!"

Three Chaos Mines flew through the rapidly-closing blast doors, their deadly cargo pushing the Necrons back by at least several meters. Just before the blast doors slammed completely shut, a lepton beam passed through the miniscule gap between them. Caught unaware, Fillman had no time to react before it pierced through his throat. His Knightmare's eyes almost immediately went dark and tumbled to the ground.

"Letsinger, Rodriguz, Lindow, I'm signaling for extraction! Rendezvous at the shaft!"

"This is Lindow. Heading to the rendezvous!"

"This is Letsinger! Necrons are attacking the control room! We're cut off!"

"Dammit! If the two of you are not on that shuttle, I am coming into the Warp personally and dragging you back! You got me?"

No sooner than the words had left Karen's mouth, Letsinger's lifesigns went dark.

"Holy shit! I've never seen a Necron unit like this before! It looks like some kind of knight! It just took off Letsinger's head in one blow!"

Karen's blood ran cold.

"Rodriguz, get out of there! That thing's out of your league!"

The only answer Karen received was silence.

"Rodriguz?"

Another lifesign blinked out a moment later.

* * *

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Arbiter  
_Orbit of Charon**

"Captain, we've just received a transmission from Lieutenant Schneider. Her team is under heavy fire and is requesting extraction."

"Forward the coordinates to the pilot. Get Lieutenant Landsford on the line. Tell him and his Raiders to get ready."

* * *

**Black Knights Base  
Valles Marineris, Mars**

Lindow met the duo of surviving Raiders in the corridors leading to the base's main firing range. Several deep gouges crisscrossed the surface of his armor, but he otherwise seemed unharmed.

"The extraction point's just ahead! Keep your eyes open! I don't want any more surprises!"

As Lindow rounded the final corner, he found himself face-to-face with an enormous Necron warrior. Clad in armor closely resembling that of a knight, albeit one from another world, the Necron easily towered head-and-shoulders over the Knightmare. Lindow had just enough time to bring his machine gun to bear when the Necron bought its sword down. Lindow's machine gun slid apart, followed by Lindow himself.

"Dammit! Vanwingerden, get that pod to the extraction point! I'll take care of this one!"

The Necron Lychguard leapt forward, his sword raised and prepared to slice Louisa to ribbons. He was intercepted in mid-flight by Karen, hadron saber drawn. The Lieutenant easily intercepted his blade with hers. A front kick sent the Lychguard staggering backwards.

"Foolish human," the Lychguard rasped, "Have you gone insane with fear? Your two companions were unworthy of the swings I expended on them. You will be no different from the others."

Karen bought her saber into a ready position in response.

"I'm a Raider lieutenant, Lychguard. You'll find that I'm in a whole different league."

A horrible screeching sound filled the hallway seconds later. It took Karen several seconds to realize the Necron was _laughing_.

"So you know what I am. Do you still presume to challenge me to single combat?"

Karen didn't budge.

"Very well," the Necron laughed again, raising his sword as he did so, "I will entertain your desperate fantasy. In the final seconds of your life, witness the true art of the blade!"

The Lychguard was easily half a meter taller than Karen and had at least a hundred kilos over her. Swinging its enormous blade as if it were many times lighter, each slash was made with utmost precision and each capable of slicing Karen and her Knightmare in half. The Raider, however, was noticeably faster, and her smaller frame allowed her to circle around the Lychguard, alternately parrying its blows and striking out at openings. Each blow was met by the Necron's shield, easily the size of Karen's Knightmare by itself. It took every ounce of reaction speed Karen possessed to avoid the ensuing counterattacks.

"Perhaps I underestimated you, human," the Lychguard declared as his and Karen's blades once again collided in a shower of sparks.

Karen suddenly jerked her saber upwards, bringing the Necron's sword with it. Before the Lychguard could bring its shield around to cover the new opening in its defense, Karen snap kicked it in the torso. She followed up with several rapid jabs, then a roundhouse kick. When the Necron finally bought its shield around, Karen was already gone, having slid around the massive chunk of metal to exploit the newly-created opportunity at the Necron's rear.

The Lychguard spared a glance down at the hadron saber now protruding through the lower left quarter of its torso. The Necron swung around, its elbow aimed where it estimated Karen's head to be. The Raider was forced to relinquish the hadron saber in order to jump away in time. She drew a second one as the Necron turned around.

"You have impressed me, human. None have survived this long before me. If you surrender now and swear fealty to me, I shall let you live. A loyal and dedicated slave can rise far in the court."

Karen's reply was to leap forward, saber raised to attack.

"Very well, human, but continue to consider my offer. It is already far more generous than any other has received."

* * *

Louisa continued her mad dash for the drop-shuttle as dozens of Necrons boiled from surrounding hallways. Blue and green bolts impacted the walls around her, several striking dangerously close to home. Pushing the pod with one hand and blindly firing over her shoulder with the other, Louisa breathed a sigh of relief when she finally passed the final set of blast doors. That relief turned into despair as she surveyed the scene in front of her.

Louisa swerved to the left, nearly falling over, to avoid the wall of green and blue that greeted her. Dozens of Necrons—arranged into neat firing lines and their weapons trained on the open blast doors—occupied the testing range. Louisa's eyes darted around the room in desperate search for cover, but the sheer volume of incoming weapons fire reduced any safety she was able to find to dust in seconds.

A Tesla blast clipped the Raider in the arm, disrupting her balance and forcing her to slow down.

Before the Necrons could finish Louisa off, a Sleipnir-class drop shuttle roared into existence in the ventilation shaft above. Its hadron machine gun turrets tore holes in the Necron formations and the walls of the firing range alike as the shuttle descended to the ground. Deployment ramps opened up to reveal a fresh and heavily-armed Raider team that proceeded to add their own weapons fire to the mix.

"Get to the shuttle! We'll cover you!"

* * *

Karen and the Lychguard locked sabers once again, pushing against each other for several seconds before jumping backwards in preparation for the next attack. The Lychguard had lost much of its bulk since the beginning of the duel. When several hadron saber slices reduced a majority of its shield to ribbons, the Necron threw it away. When Karen's attacks dented and slashed its armor to the point that it was more a hindrance than a help, the Lychguard shed it. Its biometal body had suffered significant damage since then, enough to warrant a lengthy self-repair cycle afterwards. Karen had not gotten out unscathed, either: several deep gouges ran down the front of her Knightmare, and the vicious blows with the pommel of the Necron's sword had doubtlessly caused a few internal injuries.

"You fight well, human," the Lychguard declared, "When I slay you, I shall take your blade and present it to my lord."

Karen lowered her blade and charged. The Lychguard did the same, meeting her halfway. The two warriors passed one another and continued on for several more feet before stopping.

* * *

Barely ten meters from the ramp, a lucky Gauss blast caught Louisa in the back. The attack left a deep gouge in her armor, and the force of impact caused her to stumble forward. A second one struck home moments later, adding another gouge to the collection. Several more followed in quick succession, none of them penetrating but several coming awfully close.

Sensing that her time was up, Louisa gave the pod a might shove, sending it careening down the last few meters just as a Tesla blast struck home. Her Knightmare convulsed for several seconds before going dark and sinking to the ground.

* * *

Inside her Knightmare, blood poured from Karen's mouth. She looked down at the large gash that ran diagonally down her front. Strength rapidly left her legs even as her Knightmare flooded the site with medical foam. Fighting the urge to sink to her knees, the Raider gritted her teeth and told herself to remain standing. She wouldn't give that Lychguard the satisfaction. Noticing how quiet it was behind her, Karen turned around just in time to see the Lychguard fall to its knees, its sword cleaved in two.

"Human," the Lychguard rasped as it sank to the ground, "You are a true warrior. I concede defeat."

Karen staggered towards the fallen Lychguard, screaming at herself to stay standing with each step.

"May I request the honor of knowing the name and dynasty of my vanquisher?"

Karen hesitated for a moment, and then decided she had nothing left to lose in granting the Necron its final request.

"My name is Karen Schneider, of the Black Knights."

"Karen Schneider of the Black Knights, you have been a most worthy opponent. I am honored to die by your hand."

The Lychguard's eyes went dark and its body went limp. Karen turned towards the weapons testing range and staggered forward for several steps. The last of her strength gave out and she sank to the ground, dead.

* * *

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Arbiter  
_Valles Marineris Base, Mars**

"Package is onboard! Pilot, get us out of here!"

The drop shuttle launched a spread of FLEIJA warheads before entering the Warp. The tremors of the base's annihilation were felt even on the surface, but the Mechanicum's logic engines would label them as nothing significant.

* * *

**Author's** **Note: **And there we have it! The story of Karen Schneider and the 1st Raiders draws to a close. Probably one of the bloodiest plot miniarcs, in terms of percent casualties, I've ever written. I hope I've given them an appropriate sendoff and, as always, I hope you enjoy!


	9. Chapter Eight: The Return

**Author's Note:** Whooo! On a roll! Unfortunately, this one is mostly a transition chapter, but it sets up the real meat of the plot. Next chapter should be out within the next three or four days.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own either _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_. Don't think I ever will.

**Chapter Eight: The Return**

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Courageous_, Orbit of Titan  
Four Hours After the _Ikaruga_'s Appearance**

"They've verified our approach," the communications officer glanced over his shoulder at the commander, "They're sending gunships to meet us."

"Approach vector locked," the pilot added.

The pilot glanced out the cockpit windows as Imperial Thunderhawks joined the quintet of Excalibur-class attack craft currently escorting their shuttle. The slab-sided Imperial gunships contrasted sharply with the sleek lines of the Black Knights attack craft. In front, the cavernous main docking bay of the Grey Knights' fortress-monastery slowly grew to dominate the view. The destroyer they had launched from and its frigate escorts grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

The Excalibur-class attack craft peeled away at blinding speed as the _Courageous_ passed through the atmospheric integrity fields. Their bellies came millimeters from the surface of Titan for a few brief moments before the craft climbed sharply away from the moon. The quintet of Black Knights craft soon joined the multitude of Imperial fighters patrolling the perimeter around Titan.

"Docking permissions granted. The Imperials have sent a delegation to greet us."

The Sleipnir suddenly stopped in midair, sending its gunship escorts wildly banking away in an effort to avoid colliding with the drop shuttle. The _Courageous_' bow swung around in midair, bringing its starboard flank in line with its assigned docking area. The bay was originally designed for Imperial dropships, but the difference in scale was sufficiently vast that the Black Knights vessel's current orientation made for a—rather snug—fit. The _Courageous_' pilot slowly sidled the shuttle into the berth.

"Touchdown confirmed. Shutting off the gravitric drives," the pilot hurriedly flipped several switches and pushed a couple of buttons, "Drive shutdown confirmed. Lowering the ramp."

The armored blast doors at the end of the docking berth slowly slid open. Though their helmets hid them, the crew's eyes widened at the sight that lay beyond.

* * *

**Shuttle Bay E72, Main Docking Bay  
Grey Knights Fortress-Monastery, Titan**

The members of the Grey Knights honor guard simultaneously snapped to attention as the _Courageous_' ramp dropped down. Fresh air from the shuttle's interior mixed with the stale air of the fortress-monastery as two armored figures strode down the ramp. At around two meters in height, they stood noticeably shorter than the gathered Astartes. Records of the conversation between Inquisitor Kirschman and the captain of the _Pendragon_ had already made their rounds of the fortress, and the gathered Grey Knights were already familiar with the helmets of the Archangel Knightmare.

The rest of the design proved similarly sleek and utilitarian: the torso was vaguely spherical, with a narrow waist and pelvis section. The shoulder armor flared out in a clearly visible but fairly understated manner and was nowhere near as conspicuous as the Astartes'. The limbs were long and thin, but they somehow remained proportional with the rest of the body. A roughly oval-shaped pod hung from each hip, with the downward-facing end narrowing into a tip. The forearms were slightly bulked up but not nearly enough to grab one's attention. The backpack was fairly small and unobstructive and was clearly overshadowed by the elongated, roughly trapezoidal, structures that hung on either side of it. Every major surface of the armor was sloped or rounded in a way that suggested it could easily bounce a bolter shell or lasbolt.

Two more Archangels followed two paces behind, their hadron assault rifles ported with the barrels pointed downwards. A pair of Knightmares, very clearly not Archangels, disembarked afterwards.

The one to the left clearly shared some visual characteristics with the Archangels but only to the extent of a vague resemblance. Compared to the surrounding Knightmares, it sported a significantly more pronounced head crest, lengthened to the point of resembling a backwards-facing horn. Its shoulder, knee, and forearm armor flared out aggressively, visibly increasing the size of its silhouette. The design's overall lines were sleeker and more aggressive than that of Archangel, serving to both intimidate and impress. It sported the same backpack-like structure as the surrounding Knightmares, but two scabbards and a pair of structures resembling featherless birds' wings were mounted on the sides, and a hadron assault rifle attached to its lower back. Instead of black and silver, the Knightmare was painted white and gold with red highlights.

The Knightmare to the left was a radical departure from either model of power armor present. Standing noticeably shorter than its counterparts, it was largely red with orange around the collar and upper chest and various quantities of grey and green were scattered around its frame. Its lines were sharp and angular, giving it an even more aggressive appearance than its companion. The backpack-like structure was still present but blended into its torso, with two winglike structures folded tightly against it. Two prominent, blade-like structures jutted out of its back, with a pair of tracks allowing them to slide to the front of its torso. Its head with significantly more exaggerated than its companion's, sporting one large protrusion on top that closely resembled a horn and two more upward-curving structures on the sides. The flared-out shoulder and knee armor only enhanced its aggressive aura. Most distinctive of all, however, was its right arm: it was noticeably longer than its left, with a large, five-clawed hand rather than a more conventional manipulator.

Four more Archangel Knightmares filed down the ramp next, followed by two robed figures. Lithe and petite, they seemed out-of-place next to the armored Knightmares and Astartes that inhabited the room. Four more Archangels followed them, assault rifles ported and pointed downwards. The two custom Knightmares and the two robed figures halted at the bottom of the ramp, while the Archangels proceeded forward, forming two neat rows.

"Detail, atten_tion_!"

With nanosecond precision, the Archangels snapped to attention.

"Detail, present _arms_!"

Twelve rifle salutes.

"Detail, order _arms_!"

With a precision that impressed even the gathered Astartes, twelve rifle butts crashed against the floor. The Knightmares stood ramrod-straight, holding their rifles at the barrel.

The Grey Knights, not to be outdone, responded in kind. The two columns turned their backs to one another, and the Astartes strode in lockstep to the corridor walls. They all pivoted simultaneously, halberds held upright in their right hands and their left arms against their sides. With the kind of precision that only years of practice could bring, the butts of their halberds suddenly slammed against the ground with a deafening _thud_. As they did so, the gathered Grey Knights simultaneously turned eyes-right.

"In the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind and the Imperium of Man, I welcome you to the Holy Terra System."

Inquisitor Manuel Kirschman strode between the two columns of Grey Knights, appearing quite tiny compared to the mountains of ceramite that surrounded him. Another Grey Knight, his helmet removed to show his weathered and battle-scarred face, walked beside the Inquisitor. The pair came to a stop just before crossing the blast doors. The Black Knights delegation walked the remaining distance to meet them.

"I am Inquisitor Manuel Kirschman of the Ordos Xenos. In the absence of a higher-ranking envoy of the God-Emperor, I am authorized to speak on behalf of the Imperium," the Inquisitor bowed slightly.

"And I am Supreme Grand Master Jakob Aetius of the Grey Knights," the Astartes beside him boomed.

To the entire Imperial delegation's surprise, one of the robed figures stepped forward first and lowered her hood. Before the voluminous sleeves slid back over her hands, the gathered Astartes noticed that the figure wasn't quite as unprotected as originally thought: her hands were encased in a material visually similar to wraithbone. It seemed to extend up her arms, and from the way the robes fell over her shoulders, the material probably covered at least her upper torso as well. With those observations filed away, they took note of the woman's appearance and made a valiant effort to hide their shock. A youthful-looking face with large purple eyes and framed by flowing chestnut-brown locks lay beneath the hood. She didn't appear much older than twenty at most.

"Greetings, Inquisitor Kirschman and Supreme Grand Master Aetius of the Imperium. I am Nunnally Lamperouge, governor of the Black Knights."

Nunnally extended her hand. The Inquisitor reluctantly accepted it and shook briefly before letting go. The Supreme Grand Master hesitated for a second, as if wondering whether his hand would crush hers, before taking the proffered hand. His hand promptly retracted as if shot. From the look on her face, he knew that she knew that he had realized she wasn't any normal girl.

The white-and-gold Lancelot-Seraph stepped up next.

"My name is Suzaku Kururugi, General of the Black Knights Military Arm-Militia Division.

As Suzaku shook both their hands, Kallen in her Guren-Seraph stepped up.

"I am General Kallen Kozuki, head of the Black Knights Military Arm-Special Forces Division."

She extended her left arm.

"And I am CC, Director of the Psychic Special Warfare Department of the Black Knights Military Arm."

CC's robes parted as she extended her hand. As he shook the Director's hand, Supreme Grand Master Aetius noticed that she was clad in a suit of the same wraithbone-like substance that Nunnally was wearing. He could see a saber in its scabbard in the folds of her robes.

* * *

**Grey Knights Fortress-Monastery, Titan  
Fifteen Minutes Later**

"So this 'God-Emperor' of yours…did he choose this title for himself, or did others bestow it upon him?"

The Inquisitor and the Supreme Grand Master both froze in their tracks. Nunnally buried her face in her hands as Suzaku and Kallen facepalmed with simultaneous metallic _clank_s. Jakob whirled around and advanced on CC.

"I suggest you consider your next words carefully. I have struck down lesser men on the spot for far less."

"Stand down."

The Supreme Grand Master's blood boiled as his hand shot for the bolt pistol at his hip. This…_witch_…had the _gall_ to blaspheme against the Emperor and then _dare_ presume to order him around?

"I said stand down!" CC ordered a little more loudly this time.

"I suggest you listen to her anyway, Supreme Grand Master."

That was the point that Jakob realized neither of CC's commands had been directed at him. He turned around to find himself face-to-faceplate with an unknown model of Knightmare with its blade millimeters from his throat. No less than five Knightmares of the same previously-unseen model stood behind him, blades at the ready. Three more stood behind Inquisitor Kirschman, one with his sword millimeters from the Inquisitor's neck. The nine Knightmares straightened up and re-sheathed their swords, and the Inquisitor sagged visibly in relief. They saluted and disappeared with a series of faint _crack_s.

The Supreme Grand Master turned around and continued walking down the corridor. His features were carefully composed thanks to centuries of experience, but internally, he was shaken. Just how had those Knightmares appeared behind him like that? What kind of sorcery allowed them to move close enough to attack him without him noticing?

Behind him, Nunnally was angrily mouthing "_Behave!_" to CC.

* * *

**Grey Knights Fortress-Monastery, Titan  
Forty-Five Minutes Later**

"Completely unacceptable!" the Inquisitor slammed his fist onto the table, "I will not stand for this! We have already extended you and your Black Knights significant trust in allowing you near Holy Terra in force! The High Lords would never grant your request to approach Terra itself!"

CC stared at the now-redfaced Inquisitor impassively while Nunnally began to massage the bridge of her nose. Suzaku and Kallen stood at either side of the two, their Knightmares not budging. Neither Nunnally nor CC needed psychic ability to see that the two were internally banging their heads against desks.

Nunnally took a few deep breaths, straightened up, and folded her hands primly in front of her.

"Inquisitor Kirschman, I'm not sure if you fully understand the Imperium's position. Abaddon the Despoiler himself is arriving in less than fifty hours with one of the largest non-Tyranid fleets the galaxy has ever seen. Your forces couldn't even repel the first wave of his attack."

The Inquisitor's hands balled up into fists.

"We have at our disposal a legion of battle-hardened troops and one of the most powerful fleets in the galaxy. They've faced and beaten Orks, Tyranids, Necrons, and Chaos multiple times over the past twenty thousand years."

"You are standing in the seat of power of the Imperium of Man," Jakob interrupted, "Yet you still dare to threaten us?"

"Your fleet is not even worth the warheads it would take to destroy it. Our survival is merely a matter of leaving this system. You would be surprised how many sectors the taint of Chaos has yet to reach. You have no such option."

Inquisitor Kirschman's grip tightened even further, his knuckles turning deathly white.

"You can stand before Chaos with us at your side, or you can stand alone. The ball, as my people say, is now in your court, Inquisitor."

Manuel Kirschman slumped down in his seat, defeated.

"I'll talk to the High Lords regarding landing permissions on Holy Terra. I make no guarantees regarding an audience before the Emperor. The Adeptus Custodes have sole authority over that issue."

"I'm sure we can make them see reason. As I speak, approximately ten million militia troops and one thousand five hundred ships are ready for immediate deployment to projected contested zones. They will be joined by another thirty million troops and seven thousand ships within twenty-four hours, with the rest of our forces ready within the forty-eight hours afterwards."

Kirschman didn't become an Inquisitor through superior dataslate-sorting abilities. In order to have that much firepower ready on such short notice…

"You never had any intention of withdrawing, did you, Governor Lamperouge?"

"I could have been bluffing, Inquisitor, but do you really want to take that chance?"

Manuel slumped back down in his seat, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. Just what was this girl?

* * *

**Docking Bay, Black Knights Frigate _Valiant  
_Seven Hours After the _Ikaruga_'s Appearance**

"Detail, right shoulder, _arms_!"

"Detail, forward, _march_!"

Eight Cherub Knighmares shouldered their hadron carbines with practiced motions. As dozens of Orbital Planetary Assault Wing personnel—encased in their Knightmares due to being on alert but with the helmets off and held under their right armpits—looked on in solemn silence, they moved forward with nanosecond precision.

"Detail, _halt_!"

Eight feet simultaneously crashed to the ground, followed by silence.

"Detail, right, _face_!"

Eight Knightmares pivoted on their right feet, rotating ninety degrees and facing the row of flag-draped coffins.

"Detail, present, _arms_!"

Seven simultaneous rifle salutes accompanied by a hand salute.

"Detail, order, _arms_!"

Seven carbine butts met the ground. The eighth Knightmare slowly bought his hand up in another salute. He held the pose for a little over a second before turning to face the other seven Knightmares.

"Detail, left, _face_!"

The seven Knightmares returned to their original orientation.

"Detail, port, arms!"

The seven Knightmares simultaneously ported their rifles, standing at rigid attention the whole time as the eighth Knightmare read out of the names of the dead, beginning with Lieutenant Karen Schneider and working his way down the ranks. The pause in between names stung just as much as the number of names.

"Ready!"

"Aim!"

Seven hadron carbines pointed towards the far wall, as if threatening whatever daemons of the Warp wished to feast on the souls of the dead.

"Fire!"

Seven cherry-red lances shot out at once, splashing harmlessly against the bulkhead.

"Ready!"

Seven carbines returned to port arms.

"Aim!"

Seven rifles aimed at the wall.

"Fire!"

Seven more hadron bolts splashed harmlessly against their target.

"Ready!"

"Aim!"

"Fire!"

The final seven bolts impacted the opposite bulkhead, leaving behind faint scorch marks but otherwise not affecting the metal at all.

"Detail, right shoulder, _arms_!"

"Wing, present, _arms_!"

Dozens of feet simultaneously slammed against the ground as all the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing troopers present snapped to attention and saluted. Twenty-four of them walked forward in lockstep, splitting off into pairs as they approached the coffins. Each pair flanked the coffin closest to them and pivoted to face it.

"Wing, parade, _rest_!"

Nearly eighty armored feet lifted up off the ground at once and slammed against the floor again a split-second later. Feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind their backs, the OPAW troopers watched solemnly on as a remote signal activated the grav-lift platforms under the coffins. Slowly, the flag-draped coffins approached the boundary that was the docking bay's atmospheric integrity field. As each of the coffins passed by, the OPAW troopers to either side grabbed the flag by the corners and lifted it away.

Removing the flag revealed the smooth metal hidden underneath, along with the OPAW insignia etched into the surface. From a distance, one might be forgiven for thinking it was a badly-drawn Imperial Aquila: a highly stylized eagle dominated the design. However, where the Imperial eagle resembled something hand-painted with a calligraphy brush, the OPAW eagle was far more angular, its contours roughly lining up with the triangular border. Its single head faced to the right. Written around the edges was "Black Knights Military Arm-Orbital Planetary Assault Wing." A thin line on the eagle's chest, which countless troopers over the millennia had remarked closely resembled the mark on Director CC's forehead, denoted them as Raiders.

In perfect synchrony, the twelve pairs of OPAW troopers turned the flags towards their audience. The design was simple: completely matte black, broken up only by the silver malformed-trident insignia in the center. As the soldiers turned the flags insignia-side-up, twelve more Knightmares broke ranks and moved in lockstep towards the front. Each deposited an OPAW patch and a Raider stripe at the center of a flag before about-facing and returning to formation.

With practiced ease, the twelve pairs of Knightmares left in the front folded the flags. They matched one another fold-for-fold with nanosecond precision, pausing for a second between each fold. The hangar bay was tomb-silent for the nearly thirty seconds the ceremony lasted.

"Detail, right,_face_!"

Twenty-four armored feet simultaneously crashed to the deck as the Knightmares they were attached to pivoted to face the audience. The rightmost Knightmare of each pair held the folded flag under his right armpit.

"Detail, fall in!"

The Knightmares quickly arranged themselves into two columns and snapped to attention.

"Detail, forward, _march_!"

The audience parted down the center, allowing the flag-bearing Knighmares passage. In silence, the twelve pairs of OPAW troopers marched out of the hanger bay.

"Wing, dismissed!"

The remaining OPAW turned around and left the hanger bay. No sooner had the last of them left through the blast doors than Knightmare-equipped technicians swarmed into the hangar and busily set about restoring the area to working order.

The coffins slowly drifted off into the distance, becoming specks in space before disappearing from view entirely.

* * *

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Courageous  
_En Route to Holy Terra**

Nunnally double-tapped her communicator, summoning her personal holographic heads-up display. A thin rod extended for the ear pieces, following the contour of her head and stopping as they entered her line of sight. Years of use allowed her to endure the dazzling effect as the display was projected directly onto her retinas without so much as blinking. With a few mental twitches, she brushed aside the vast majority of the readouts and bought up a window displaying the latest dispatches from all over the fleet.

Most of the dispatches were little more than routine logistics reports from her legion of advisors and ministers. One that caught her eye originated from the _Valiant_: the ceremonial burial in space for Karen Schneider and her Raiders had concluded mere minutes ago. News of the 1st Raiders' fate had spread to nearly all members of its parent unit within minutes of the 2nd Raiders' arrival. Within an hour, Kallen had received a request to conduct the ceremony. The redheaded general had reluctantly authorized it, provided all participating units were ready for immediate deployment should Chaos forces arrive in-system earlier than expected.

The civil governor of the Black Knights held no illusions of just how costly the upcoming war was likely to be: in the years before returning to Earth, she had secretly stockpiled a massive amount of funerary supplies. Fifty million coffins, specifically geared towards burials in space, and flags to drape over them sat piled in several of the _Ikaruga_'s cavernous storage bays. Well aware of the OPAWs' burial traditions, she had also skimmed twenty thousand OPAW patches and five hundred Raider stripes from production lines. In addition, nearly two hundred fifty million medals, the vast majority of them awarded for severe injuries sustained in the line of duty or—-usually posthumously—for conspicuous bravery in battle, had been secretly struck.

Though mere thoughts of the sheer scale of bloodshed about to take place was sufficient to make Nunnally sick to her stomach, she was truly shaken by the Raiders' unflinching acceptance of their orders. A mission even more dangerous than normal in the Raiders' line of work, the job was one all four of the Black Knights' leaders could say with near-certainty that no unit would willingly take it on. For one of the few times in her numerous millennia of existence, Nunnally found herself painfully aware just how much stock the Black Knights put into her words, as well as those of her three compatriots.

Private thoughts of doubt wormed their way into Nunnally's mind. She could tell that her three companions were experiencing similar feelings at that very moment.

"We have emerged from the cover of Imperial fighter patrols. As soon as our escorts dock, we will engage the skimmer drive," a very calm and collected voice announced.

The deck rumbled slightly as five Excalibur-class attack craft pulled close to the Sleipnir's sides and engaged docking clamps.

"Escorts confirmed docked. Course is plotted. Estimated travel time: seventeen minutes."

Nunnally leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. No matter how she felt inside, she could never show any signs of her current mental state outside the _Courageous_' passenger compartment. She couldn't afford to appear anything less than absolutely certain of every decision she made in front of the troops, and she especially couldn't afford to let the Imperials see her waver.

A slight shiver running up her spine confirmed to the Psyker that the shuttle had entered the Warp.

* * *

**Orbit Of Mars  
Eight Hours After the _Ikaruga_'s Appearance**

As the first and greatest of the Adeptus Mechanicus Forge Worlds, the defenses of Mars were second only to those of Holy Terra itself. As the remaining fleets of the Imperium conducted their long retreat back to the human home sector, the defenses around the planet had only increased. Thousands of ships, among them hundreds of the fabled and unimaginably-powerful Ark Mechanicus-class ships, maintained constant vigil over the world.

When a series of sickly-green rifts in reality suddenly appeared in the midst of the defense fleet, thousands of guns were immediately trained on them. The Imperial fleet could hardly stand down fast enough when the Black Knights Dreadnoughts _Beijing_ and _Paris_ roared through the rift, followed by over a dozen cruisers and their respective escorts.

The Imperial fleet hurriedly parted, allowing the Black Knights' battle group past. Weaving through the tangle of orbital shipyards, the ships stopped in low orbit and began disgorging drop-shuttles.

* * *

**?  
?**

"Is this the specimen you mentioned, my lord?"

"Yes. I want to know if it can be done."

"My lord, it took a little longer to get the specimen into stasis than would be optimal, and…"

The sound of a sword unsheathing echoed throughout the chamber.

"Do not test my patience! As of now, my continued patronage…no, your continued existence…is at my pleasure. I ask you again: can it be done?"

"But, my lord, the codes…" "I don't care what the codes say at this moment! What I want to know from you is if it can be done!" the first voice thundered.

"It is well within our capabilities, my lord," the second voice meekly replied, "But our supplies are already depleted from the last procedure…"

"State your needs. Anything you require will be yours!"

"Yes, my lord. We will begin preparations immediately."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes. After eight chapters, we finally reach Holy Terra! The real meat of the plot now begins!


	10. Chapter Nine: The Emperor of Mankind

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Warhammer 40k_ or _Code Geass_. I just play with their characters and technology here.

**Chapter Nine: The Emperor of Mankind**

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Courageous  
_Orbit of Holy Terra**

Nunnally was awoken from her all-too-brief power nap by the passenger compartment's intercom blaring to life.

"We are currently approaching the orbit of Mars and will be disengaging the skimmer drive in approximately one minute."

Nunnally and the other passengers, having experienced constant Warp jumps throughout their lives, reflexively leaned back in their seats. Designed with a skimmer drive, Sleipnir-class drop shuttles exemplified the Black Knights' military doctrine of lightning-fast surgical strikes. The design's relatively tiny size and mass allowed it to easily transition to and from the Warp, giving it enormous operational mobility. However, those very same features also meant that, despite advanced inertial dampeners, passengers were all too aware of any Warp currents. With the Warp never being truly calm for the past ten thousand years, turbulence while entering and leaving the Warp was the rule rather than the exception, and jumping into gravity wells only magnified the effects.

"Disengaging the skimmer drive in ten seconds," a brief pause, "Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Skimmer drive disengaged."

The turbulence jostled the drop shuttle's passengers around in their seats, but their acceleration harnesses kept them firmly in place.

Curious as to the appearance of her onetime home, Nunnally bought her holographic interface back up and tapped into one of the shuttle's external cameras. The sight that greeted her caused her to wonder if the shuttle crew had miscalculated and jumped them in over another Imperial world. The cradle of humanity had been heavily urbanized during the exodus, but tiny patches of green and ocean could still be seen from space. The world in front of her was almost completely encased in smog, though small islands—which Nunnally soon realized were hive spires—occasionally poked through. Long lines of light, which the governor reckoned were the lights of densely-packed lesser hives, arranged in a vaguely geometric pattern crisscrossed the surface.

Nunnally's view of the new Earth was cut off by the massive flank of an Imperial cruiser. The Sleipnir passed close enough that she could even make out the individual weapons batteries encrusting the warship's surface. Several of the gun muzzles looked large enough to pilot the shuttle through with room to spare. The massive guns grew smaller and smaller as the shuttle banked sharply away from the cruiser, briefly bringing other ships into view while diving towards the atmosphere.

"Attention all passengers, atmospheric re-entry will commence in thirty seconds. Repeat, atmospheric re-entry in thirty seconds."

Nunnally dismissed her heads-up display and, along with the rest of the passengers, leaned back into her seat.

* * *

**Black Knights 15th Militia Staging Area  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

"Get those drop-shuttles unloaded! I wanted them back in the air yesterday!"

The red dust of Mars hung in the air as dozens of Sleipnir drop shuttles touched down all over the volcanic plain. Just as many were circling the makeshift airfield in search of an open landing spot or preparing to take off. Even more had already shut down their gravitric drives and dropped their ramps. Hundreds of Archangel-type Knightmares crisscrossed the staging area, many of them pushing mountains of supply crates on grav-sleds. The low whining of the Sleipnirs' built-in overhead cranes and conveyer belts filled the air.

The _Beijing_ and the _Paris_ hung in the skies overhead, surrounded by their sizable escort fleets as another wave of transport ships departed from their cavernous hangar bays. Though mainly used to destroy enemy fleets and support smaller vessels, Black Knights dreadnoughts lacked little in the troop carrier role: each of the dreadnoughts was loaded to capacity with forty thousand militiamen. Each of the smaller cruisers contributed an additional twenty thousand troops to the rapidly-expanding Black Knights presence on Mars.

At the heart of the militia staging area, the larger silhouettes of Valkyrie-class utility ships dominated the landscape. Their mission pods giving them a bloated appearance, each Valkyrie boasted the carrying capacity of a dozen Sleipnirs. Each one was equipped with four gantry cranes and was tasked with hauling supplies too bulky for Sleipnirs to carry—mainly prefabricated fortifications—or large numbers of Knightmare-equipped troops.

"Ma'am, we've got company."

Colonel General Lilia Majka, head of the Black Knights 15th Militia, whirled towards the direction the Brigadier General pointed out. Even with minimal zoom, she could make out the large formation of Skitarii heading their way.

"Dammit! Tell them that if they're not here to help, clear out! I've got two hundred thousand pairs of boots to get on the ground before the rest of the Army Group arrives!"

* * *

**Skies of Holy Terra  
Somewhere Over the Former Mid-Atlantic**

Stretching many kilometers into the air, the hive cities of Holy Terra were built atop thousands of years' worth of urban expansion. In these massive spires lived untold trillions in unimaginable squalor, their brief lives full of backbreaking toil in the service of a privileged few. Even greater numbers lived in the layers of cities below, unknown to the Imperium and oblivious to the events taking place above. Few out of the miniscule portion of the population fortunate enough to live where they could see the smog-choked skies over Holy Terra could see the streak of fire that briefly cut across the sky. Even fewer could say they knew the identity of that streak.

The stream of flame vanished as the _Courageous_ and its escort craft, their hadron fields still glowing slightly from the heat of re-entry, reached the lower atmosphere of Terra. Two more of the escorting Excaliburs were already waiting at the rendezvous point. The quartet hovered in midair as the final two attack craft leveled out and decelerated, actually overshooting the group before bleeding off enough velocity to double back and form up.

"Contact. Five Imperial fighters bearing straight ahead. They are climbing to match our altitude."

Next to the gravitric-drive-equipped Black Knights craft, even the maneuverable Imperial Thunderbolts appeared somewhat clumsy in comparison. They shot past the formation at high speed, swinging around in an enormous arc to face the sextet of Black Knights craft. The Imperial fighters began circling the _Courageous_ and its escorts, currently hovering in place, as lines of communication were established. Within minutes, the newly-expanded delegation to the Imperial Palace roared towards the horizon at supersonic speeds.

* * *

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Courageous  
_Skies Over the Imperial Palace**

Though Nunnally knew it would probably prove wiser to rest before confronting the Adeptus Custodes and the High Lords of Terra, she couldn't resist the urge to sight-see around the Imperial Palace. Summoning her holographic display, she tapped into the shuttle's external cameras. Surface scans taken from orbit failed to do the massive complex justice: though she had arrived at Earth well aware that the Imperial Palace covered much of what she knew as the Euro Universe, Nunnally didn't feel truly dwarfed until the pyramids came into view.

As the _Courageous_ and its escorts dipped lower into the atmosphere, the hive structures below came into view. Nunnally could even make out the individual main spires and the numerous smaller spires that surrounded them. Even the smallest of the spires housed more people than the entire Black Knights fleet combined. Several of the structures in the distance seemed large and official-looking enough to function as Administratum buildings. As the _Courageous_ began weaving between the buildings, Nunnally's assumptions were proven correct as the emblem of the Administratum came into view.

Beneath the atmosphere of quiet awe, the same question lurked in everyone's minds. CC, Nunnally, Suzaku, Kallen, their twelve-Knightmare honor guard, even the nine Psychic Special Warfare operatives in the shuttle all quietly wondered: just how would they defend even the tiniest portion of the Imperial Palace? Modern Imperial hive cities were hastily erected and haphazardly expanded with little regard for proper planning. The countless twisting corridors and forgotten passages would make holding even a small portion of a hive a living nightmare at best. With only a few hundred million troops to their name, the Black Knights simply couldn't afford to deploy to anything not a strategic choke-point.

Tactical planning was pushed to the rear of everyone's minds as one of the aptly-named Titanoliths appeared through the smoke. A massive column kilometers in height, several Yggdrasils could easily be stacked bow-to-stern inside with plenty of room to spare. According to surface scans, twenty of the pillars were arranged in a massive ring around the Inner Imperial Palace. According to what few scraps of information Black Knights Intelligence could pick up, the pillars were hollow, their insides lined with the banners of every Astartes Chapter to have fallen in their service to the Emperor. Recent reports seemed to indicate that they were running out of room to hang new banners.

The Thunderbolt fighters that had escorted them peeled away at high speed, swinging their noses around and rocketing away in the other direction as a flight of Stormtalon gunships rose up to meet them. Several came so close to the _Courageous_ that its passengers could see the Custodian behind the controls. The shuttle and its escorts roared over the Inner Palace at blinding speeds, twisting and turning into the gaps between the pyramidal and monolithic structures that made up the Imperial Palace. At several points, the craft seemed to nearly slam into a building only to bank sharply around at the last second.

The shuttle began slowing as the largest pyramid of them all began looming ever closer. Even from dozens of kilometers away, the size difference was almost immediately obvious. Though the rest of the Imperial Palace was by no means lightly defended, the central pyramid was completely encrusted in gun emplacements. The largest batteries looked capable of fitting a Trundholm-class cruiser down its muzzle, while even the smallest visible at such distance could probably accommodate an Avalon-class destroyer without any problems.

"Approach vector locked," announced a slightly tinny voice over the shuttle's intercom, "We will be landing in approximately ten minutes."

The last image Nunnally saw before dismissing her holographic interface was the _Courageous'_ escorts peeling away at high speed. The Excaliburs climbed sharply for several seconds before circling the pyramid, while the Stormtalons disappeared behind the horizon. She assumed the Custodian gunships were bound for a repair hanger somewhere. She remembered a time when Knightmare helmet radios put out a tinny, distorted voice due to technical limitations. The effect had become so ingrained in their society's collective psyche that newer power armors used software to artificially insert the effect.

"We are now on final approach."

The passenger compartment shook slightly as the shuttle touched down. The distinctive whining sound of the gravitric drives slowed then stopped entirely. The twelve Archangels were already out of their seats and preparing to disembark when the ramp dropped.

* * *

**Docking Bay G98  
Imperial Palace, Holy Terra**

It was a rare occurrence that all twelve of the High Lords of Terra gathered together, and security was appropriately heavy for the occasion. Besides the dozens of Custodians lined along the path, Vindicare assassins had taken hidden positions around the hangar bay, their massive Exitus rifles trained on the _Courageous_' open ramp. Dozens more Custodians and several Culexus Assassins waited behind the main blast doors, ready to storm in at the first sign of trouble.

Though Inquisitor Kirschman had informed the High Lords of the appearance of the governor of the Black Knights, they were barely able to hide their expressions of surprise as Nunnally stepped down the ramp. A few Custodians' grips around their guardian spears visibly tightened as Kallen and Suzaku stepped down the ramp. As CC stepped down the ramp, an overhead ventilator released a brief but powerful gust of air. Though initially powerful enough to give even an Astartes pause, the wind's force had sufficiently dissipated by the time it reached ground-level that it only blew CC's hair aside. For a brief instant, the mark of Geass on her forehead was visible to all.

A loud _thud_ echoed throughout the chamber before CC's hair settled. All those gathered turned towards the source of the noise. This time, most were unable to hide their shock. One of the High Lords of Terra, the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, had fallen to one knee and bowed his head. His guardian spear lay on the ground in front of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" one of the other High Lords demanded as the other Custodians in the room emulated their Captain-General's action.

"The mark upon her forehead," to who the Captain-General was referring required no explanation, "is well-known to the Adeptus Custodes. The Custodians have safeguarded its secret since the time the God-Emperor himself walked amongst mortals. The God-Emperor himself bore the mark on his throat, and only one other carried such a mark. My fellow High Lords, you are witnessing the return of the Empress."

"This is preposterous!" another of the High Lords—the Inquisitorial representative, specifically—sprang up and stepped towards CC, "She has enthralled your minds with some foul sorcery! We have allowed the Great Enemy into the halls of Holy Terra its-"

The Inquisitor never finished his sentence, having been interrupted by the sudden disappearance of a large chunk of his torso. The Captain-General returned his guardian spear to its previous position without once looking up.

"The God-Emperor himself wrote of the Empress in the founding edicts of the Adeptus Custodes! Any commands she or her companions give are to be treated as if given by the God-Emperor himself! Any insult against them will be dealt with as an insult against the God-Emperor himself!"

Though the remaining High Lords may have disagreed with the Captain-General's words, they placed sufficient value on their continued existence to not pick a fight with the leader of the Adeptus Custodes. For the first time since the Great Crusade, the High Lords of Terra bowed down.

"My Empress," the Captain-General's tone changed from angry to respectful, "Do you wish anything of the Adeptus Custodes?"

"Rise, all of you," CC deadpanned.

A brief shuffling of feet as the room's occupants rose to their feet.

"Take us to the Sanctum Imperialis," CC ordered.

"It shall be done, my Empress."

* * *

**Eternity Gate, Sanctum Imperialis  
Two Hours, Thirty Minutes Later**

Built during a time where any form of urban planning was not only still possible but actually practical, the Inner Imperial Palace benefitted from an extensive and surprisingly-efficient internal transportation network. In just under an hour and a half, the Black Knights and Imperial delegations travelled from the docking bay to the heart of the Imperial Palace. Unfortunately, the network only extended to the path leading up to the Eternity Gate. An hour-long hike awaited them as they stepped off the tram.

As they proceeded at a brisk pace up the titanic staircase, the Black Knights representatives and their bodyguards felt a sense of quiet awe overcome them. The sheer scale of the Imperial Palace—even when viewed from the air—was humbling, but the titanic proportions of the staircase leading to the Eternity Gate were mind-blowing. Countless banners adorned the path to either side of the staircase, each representing an Imperial Guard or Adeptus Astartes unit in the Emperor's service. Some of them even dated back to the Great Crusade, and Nunnally could've sworn she saw one from the Thunder Army.

For many of the Black Knights present, the two Warhounds of the Legio Ignatum flanking the Eternity Gate were the first Titans they had ever seen. More than one Archangel craned its head upwards in an attempt to see just how high into the air the massive machines rose. The rumbling of the massive Eternity Gate swinging open drew all the gawkers back to the situation on hand.

Several of those present had thought the size of the Eternity Gate to be an illusion, that only a small portion of the mural would actually swing open. Their shock was evident when the entire gate, easily large enough for both the Warhound Scout Titans present to walk inside side-by-side and unbowed, moved. The chamber that lay beyond bore a closer resemblance to an Astartes parade ground than a throne room: at least five to seven fully-geared Astartes companies could fit inside. What really drew their attention, however, was the second massive set of doors on the opposite side of the room.

It took them no time at all to figure out what they were looking at: the fabled Golden Throne.

Forming a straight path from the Eternity Gate to the base of the Golden Throne stood the Companions, three hundred elite Custodians that never left the Emperor's presence. At the sight of the Black Knights delegation, they fell to one knee. With a long series of _clang_s, their guardian spears crashed together to make an archway.

Cautiously, the Black Knights delegation proceeded inside. When the High Lords made to follow, the Custodians that had escorted them to the Eternity Gate blocked their passage.

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Thirty Minutes Later**

As Nunnally approached the massive pyramid that was the Golden Throne, an increasingly-strong sense of foreboding flooded her mind. Surely Lelouch had received word of their arrival? Had the thirty thousand years since they had met changed him so much that he wouldn't even acknowledge their presence? Had he, and it pained Nunnally to think about it, forgotten about them?

The pressure building up in the back of her head intensified as she approached the massive set of the gates that dominated the Golden Throne's structure. She stopped in front of them and reached out to touch the door. That immediately proved to be a terrible mistake, as a massive surge of malignant psychic energy lashed out at her. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her head. The dozen Archangels immediately surged forward, Suzaku and Kallen dragging her back as the Knightmare formed a defensive wall between her and the gate.

"Nunnally, are you okay?" Suzaku frantically inquired.

"Yeah," Nunnally insisted, "That gate…I've never felt anything so intense before…"

"What happened?" Kallen chimed in.

"Daemons. Lots of them. Never since the Eye of Terror have I seen so many. This gate couldn't possibly have held them back: it's being forced closed by sheer psychic willpower. I need to find Lelouch!"

Before any of them could react, Nunnally had psychically hurled herself forward and up the staircase leading to the top of the Golden Throne.

* * *

Nunnally's scream of horror echoed throughout the chamber. CC, who arrived a few seconds behind her, was a little more restrained in her reaction. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth as she took several steps backwards. Kallen and Suzaku touched down moments later and immediately froze, the seasoned soldiers both overcome by mute shock.

A withered corpse sat on the Golden Throne, psychic energy cackling wildly around the body of the God-Emperor of Mankind. Numerous wires and tubes snaked from his ravaged body to the Golden Throne. Many seemed to connect to life support apparatuses, but just as many appeared to be funneling off his psychic energy. In the forest of wires, the four leaders of the Black Knights could just barely see the Geass symbol on the Emperor's throat.

CC, anger evident on her features for the first time in millennia, rounded on the Captain-General as he climbed the last few steps. A sharp _crack_ resonated throughout the chamber as she jumped up and backhanded the much larger Custodian across the face.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"CC…" Nunnally tried to intervene, but the other woman waved her away.

"My Empress," the Captain-General began, his voice submissive as he sank to one knee, "The Emperor was gravely injured in His battle with Horus twenty thousand years ago."

"He can regenerate!" CC interrupted, "That symbol on his throat! Even if this Horus had burned him to ashes, he wouldn't die!"

"My Empress, it was by his request that we connected him to the Golden Throne. We Custodians failed in our duty that day, and we will gladly accept any punishment you deem fitting."

CC drew her saber, the blade already alight with psychic energy. The Captain-General bowed his head, exposing his neck. CC raised the sword to strike, but lowered it seconds later and dispelled the psychic energy. Kallen and Suzaku, who had begun moving forward to restrain her, visibly relaxed.

"Rise, Captain-General. I have no doubt this was all part of his plan, whatever that may be. Help us extract him from the Throne, and I shall consider your failures forgiven."

"Yes, my Empress."

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Thirty Minutes Later**

"It simply can't be done!" one of the Tech-Priests protested, "The technology that built the Golden Throne has been lost to us for thousands of years!"

"That gate," Nunnally motioned towards the massive doors, "What's behind them?"

"My lady," the oldest-looking of the Tech-Priests answered, "According to our oldest and most sacred records, it was an attempt to connect to the Eldar Webway. In the years before the Heresy, only the Emperor's will kept daemons from infesting the passage. Now, only His will keeps the gates closed."

"Then we'll need to collapse the gate before extracting him?" CC quietly asked.

"This is madness!" the previous Tech-Priest protested, "The Golden Throne powers far more than just this gate! Without the Emperor's guidance, the Astronomican will be extinguished! You'll doom-"

The Tech-Priest was cut off by the blade of a guardian spear stopping millimeters from his throat.

"You are addressing the Emperor's closest confidants," the Captain-General began, his voice low and dangerous, "You will show proper respect! I have already struck down a High Lord today for such an offense. Were you not one of the few in possession of knowledge as to the Golden Throne's workings, you would have joined him!"

The Tech-Priest visibly relaxed as the guardian spear was removed from his throat.

"Any ships that have yet to reach this system are likely already lost to you. The Astronomican is nearly extinguished as it stands," CC turned towards the older Tech-Priest and the Captain-General, "Tell your men to prepare. We're going to remove the Emperor from the Golden Throne."

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Forty-Five Minutes Later**

CC and Nunnally sat cross-legged in front of the Webway gate, their eyes closed and breathing steady.

"The Tech-Priests report that they are in place. They have begun disconnecting Lelouch from that…thing," Kallen reported.

The two Psykers opened their eyes to reveal pits of psychic flame. The gates began to shake but ultimately held. Their faces began showing visible signs of strain as more and more of Lelouch's power was removed from the gates. Sweat began dripping from CC's brow, and even Nunnally soon began tiring.

"Captain-General, can you get us a link to the Tech-Priests?" CC whispered, even that minimal expenditure of energy proving quite taxing.

The Captain-General set his vox caster to broadcast mode. The voices of the Tech-Priests filtered to the two Psykers.

"What does this wire do? I've never seen this particular pattern before…"

"Just pull it out! Pray to the Omnissiah for guidance!"

As time went on, the chatter grew steadily more frantic. CC was visibly in pain now, and Nunnally's breathing became heavy and irregular.

"This device's Machine-Spirit is in distress! It does not respond to my requests to shut down!"

"I ask the Onmissiah's forgiveness for what I am about to do…"

The sound of bolt shells meeting machinery echoed through the vox.

CC seemed to swim in and out of consciousness, blood dripping from her ears and nose. Even Nunnally's prodigious psychic powers were being pushed to the very limit, with only her titanic willpower sustaining her efforts. Even with Kallen and Suzaku adding their own not-inconsequential powers to the effort, the daemons beyond continued pounding on the Webway gate. A thin sliver of what lay beyond began occasionally showing from the gap between the doors.

Nunnally was screaming in pain now, fighting to stay conscious. Every breath she took caused her to cough up blood, and the red liquid spilled from her ears and nose and mouth.

"I can't hold it any longer!"

"Companions, form ranks!"

Three hundred Custodians surged forward, imposing themselves between the quartet of Psykers and the Webway gate. They formed a phalanx with their bodies, guardian spears pointed forwards. The Archangel Knightmares stood to the sides, their hadron assault rifles pointed towards the increasingly-wide opening in the gates. A daemon's hand occasionally reached through the gap, only to be discouraged from emerging by hadron bolts and bolter shells fired inside.

Suddenly, the gates swung open, revealing the maddening dimensions of the Warp.

"Companions, close ranks! Push!"

The Custodian phalanx tightened up and began pouring bolter shells into the horde of daemons in front of them as the Knightmares drew back to move their leaders to safety. Psychic Special Warfare operatives occasionally flashed into existence amongst the daemon horde, slicing several of the creatures to ribbons before disappearing again. The battle devolved into a bloody melee, and several daemons began slipping past the Companions only to be scythed down by hadron bolts. The dozen Archangels had deposited their escortees behind a stack of crates—one of many littering the chamber—and had taken up defensive positions in the surrounding area.

"We need to close that gate!" Nunnally croaked.

"We can't even get close to it!" one of the Knightmares reported, "The daemons are breaking through!"

"Bloodthirster! Focus your fire!"

The hadron bolts seemed to only enrage the Khornate daemon. With a roar, it lowered its head and charged, backhanding one of the Psychic Special Warfare operatives that appeared in front of it out of the way. The Archangels' focused fire was taking its toll, but not nearly fast enough. As the daemon raised its sword to smash the Black Knights' position, it was cut to ribbons from behind. As the creature slid apart, the Black Knights were able to catch only the briefest glimpse of their savior: a lithe, fast-moving figure carrying a staff.

The new arrival launched high into the air and slammed down in the space between the Black Knights and the Custodians. A visible shockwave issued forth, reducing any daemons caught within to dust. She—at least, the Black Knights assumed the new arrival was a woman, as no man any of them could think of would have long bubblegum-pink hair and wear a dress—stood up, raising her staff into the air. A blinding flash of light engulfed the throne room, reducing the daemons to dust while leaving everyone else unharmed.

"Go! Now! Collapse the gate!" the new arrival urgently ordered.

The four Psykers, exhausted and battered, mustered the last of their strength. The Webway gate creaked and groaned. Cracks began appearing in the fabric of reality as the Warp rift began folding in on itself. With a deafening roar and a blinding flash, the human-built Webway passage imploded, the resulting blast disintegrating what daemons had crawled through since them. With a _boom_ that echoed throughout much of the Imperial Palace, the gates slammed shut.

"How is Lelouch now?" CC panted as the Captain-General rushed over to the Black Knights.

"We've disabled the Golden Throne, but nothing has changed," one of the Tech-Priests up top reported via vox.

"Dammit…what went wrong?" Nunnally's fist weakly pounded the ground.

"He won't wake," the new arrival stated in a distinctly feminine voice, "At least, not in this state."

As their unexpected savior turned around, the four leaders of the Black Knights would've reeled back in shock had they been able to muster the strength.

"…Euphie…?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **And so, the plot thickens. Who saw this one coming? Teehee. ^-^ This'll probably be the end of my rapid-fire updates for now.


	11. Chapter Ten: Perils of the Warp

**Disclaimer:** Insert witty statement about owning neither _Code Geass _nor _Warhammer 40k_ here.

**Chapter Ten: Perils of the Warp**

**Astronomican  
Asia, Holy Terra**

When the Emperor united the scattered nations of Terra and the Warp storms engulfing the galaxy finally calmed, thus ending the Age of Strife, humanity turned its sights to the stars in hopes of re-uniting its scattered colonies. Even with the aid of Gellar Fields, early explorers were either ripped apart by currents and malevolent Warp entities or found themselves hopelessly lost. Only with the construction of the Astronomican and the aid of the Navigator houses could the rise of the Imperium truly begin.

Located over the former Himalayas, the modern Astronomican consumed countless thousands of Psykers' souls daily to keep the tattered Imperium together. Focused and directed by the Emperor himself, the great psychic beacon guided the remaining forces of humanity to Terra for the approaching final battle.

Screams of agony echoed throughout the Astronomican as the Emperor was freed from the Golden Throne for the first time in millennia. Without the Emperor directing the Astronomican's waning—but still powerful—light, the flow of psychic energy flooded the chamber housing the ten thousand Psykers that powered the great beacon. The adepts who survived with the initial psychic blast were confronted with the gruesome site of thousands of dying Psykers. Many simply died immediately, the psychic backlash being far too great for their bodies to handle. Others began mutating uncontrollably. Some convulsed as they bled from every orifice on their bodies. Some literally melted.

Maddening laughter filled the chamber as daemons took advantage of the weakening veil between reality and the Warp to manifest.

* * *

**Black Knights Cruiser _Scinfaxi  
_Orbit of Holy Terra**

"Captain, we're detecting heavy concentrations of Warp activity centered on the Himalaya region," one of the sensor officers reported with unnerving calm.

"Scans indicate it is consistent with daemonic activity," another of the officers chimed in as if she were discussing the weather.

"Contact the _Emperor's Vengeance_," the _Scinfaxi_'s captain ordered, "Lock onto those coordinates. All FLEIJA tubes stand by."

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance  
_Mars Orbit**

"Lord Admiral Giarputto," the unlucky communications officer began, "We're receiving a transmission from a Black Knights ship around Terra."

"Well?" the Lord Admiral snapped impatiently.

"They've enclosed a large data packet. Our logic engines are attempting to decode it now…" the signals officer paled as the hololith in the center of the room lit up.

"Out of my way!" the Lord Admiral shoved the officer aside and ran up to the hololith, "Is this transmission genuine?"

"Reports are coming in from units around Terra," another communications officer began, "They corroborate the data sent by the Black Knights."

The sheer volume of communications streaming in threatened to overwhelm even the _Emperor's Vengeance_'s extensive equipment. Thousands of ships around Holy Terra began transmitting their own sensor readings and asking for instructions.

"Lord Admiral, we've received a transmission on Astartes channels. Warriors have been dispatched, but it will take several hours for the closest group to reach Terra."

"Lord Admiral, transmission from the High Lords themselves!"

A hush fell over the _Emperor's Vengeance_. Confronted with orders from men as powerful as the High Lords of Terra, even the Lord Admiral was nervous.

"They've given the fleet permission to open fire on the Warp anomaly," the communications officer uneasily continued, "In addition, all units are to consider the Black Knights as operating under orders from the Emperor himself."

The communications officer choked over the last few words, trailing off as to verify that he had read the message correctly.

"Contact all ships in the vicinity of Terra," the Lord Admiral ordered, "Cleanse the area. Let nothing escape."

* * *

**Astronomican  
Asia, Holy Terra**

From the _Scinfaxi_'s initial report to the High Lords of Terra issuing permission to bombard Holy Terra itself, barely twenty minutes had passed. In that time, hundreds of lesser daemons were given time to manifest. They flooded the Astronomican chambers used to house the Psykers, corralled in by unimaginably strong and ancient protections. Their blasphemous litanies filled the air as they roamed the sea of bodies in search of amusement and pounded on the psychic wards that surrounded the chambers.

As the wards began cracking and larger daemons began surging through the tears in reality, the horde howled in triumph. Their celebrations were cut short as the _Scinfaxi_ opened fire with its quad hadron cannons. The red and black beams penetrated hundreds of stories, annihilating everything in their path. The weapons fire grew in volume as the _Scinfaxi_'s escorts joined in, carpet-bombing the Astronomican and the surrounding urban areas. Very little was left by the time the first Imperial responders began bombarding the area.

The brief but intense bombardment concluded with several volleys of FLEIJA warheads courtesy of the _Scinfaxi_ and its support fleet. The blasts leveled the Astronomican and much of the hive structure it rested on, destroying many of the daemons' newfound bodies. The collapsing singularity that followed violently closed the Warp rift.

Several hours later, a Grey Knights containment team would arrive. Though girded up for battling a full-blown daemonic infestation, all they found were a series of craters on the ground, some many kilometers deep. So thorough was the scouring that the Grey Knights gained a newfound respect for the Black Knights that day.

* * *

When the choir of the Astronomican ceased, the remnants of the Imperium descended into chaos. Without the guiding light, the Navigators could no longer safely navigate their ships through the Immaterium. The death-screams of countless millions of souls echoed through the galaxy as ships were ripped apart by ravenous Warp-beasts and hostile currents. Some escaped the Warp only to emerge inside stars or planets. A lucky few escaped only to find themselves hopelessly lost, stranded in distant corners of the galaxy. They would search for the closest habitable worlds, hoping to spend the remainder of their lives on solid ground eking out whatever existence they could.

The removal of the Emperor from the Golden Throne and the destruction of the Astronomican accomplished what Horus and countless enemies, Chaos and xenos alike, had failed at. After desperately hanging on to life for twenty thousand years, the Imperium of Man took its final rasping breath and died.

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Imperial Palace, Holy Terra**

"Euphie?"

"Why so surprised?" Euphemia li Britannia tilted her head quizzically, "Did I not tell you we would meet again in the future?"

Suzaku's eyes widened as he made the connection.

"Now do you see what was at stake that day in the Special Administrative Zone, Suzaku?"

Nunnally shot the militia general a quizzical look. Suzaku returned a look that promised an explanation at a later time.

"What do you mean by 'this state,' Euphemia?" CC asked in her signature deadpan, having been the first to recover from the sight of seeing a long-dead woman before her.

"At the end of the Horus Heresy," Euphemia began, fingers tightening into a white-knuckled grip on her staff, "Lelouch mustered almost all of his psychic power for one final attack on Horus."

Four pairs of eyes widened as they attempted to comprehend the mind-boggling amounts of destruction such an attack could cause.

"The attack slew the fallen Primarch Horus, but he had cast aside his compassion in order to bring himself to do it. When the psychic lance impacted, he was caught in the shockwave and his soul is now scattered in thousands of fragments across the Warp."

"What are you saying?" CC urgently asked, concern and fear obvious in her voice.

"If you're worried I'm saying Lelouch is dead, don't. One of you needs to return with me to the Warp to gather up the shards of his soul before he can truly leave the Golden Throne."

"I'll go." CC stepped forward without hesitation.

The corners of Euphemia's lips curled upwards as she raised her free hand, now alight with psychic fire. The Custodians closed in, guardian spears brandished, but were waved back by CC. The pink-haired woman raised her hand above her head and slashed downwards, opening a tear in reality. Without hesitation, CC stepped through it, vanishing as she crossed the threshold. Euphemia followed moments later, the rift closing behind her.

* * *

**?  
?**

"My lord, the procedure is complete. The technology and knowledge used was old and incomplete, but…"

The sound of a sword unsheathing echoed throughout the chamber.

"Even now, you still try my patience! I care not for a detailed explanation, only if the procedure was successful or not!"

The sword was re-sheathed.

"We cannot tell for sure until the specimen awakens," the second voice answered meekly, "but initial diagnostics are promising."

"Good. I expect updates on every new development, no matter how tiny it may seem! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord."

A swish of a cloak and the sound of metallic feet clanking out of the chamber concluded the conversation.

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

As the trainer of the Black Knights' feared Psychic Special Warfare operatives, CC lived her life constantly exposed to the perils of the Warp. On far more occasions than she cared to count, a trainee operative had hopped and bought a less-than-friendly denizen of the Warp back with them. She was still wholly unprepared for the Warp's tormented state. The torrents of raw emotion and maddening proportions of the parallel plane threatened to overwhelm even her well-defended mind.

Her vision swam as the swirling, impossible colors whirled around her at high speeds. Nausea nearly overtook her senses and she barely noticed the break in the colors. She recovered her senses just in time to see the ground spinning towards her. It took her another second to recover enough of her mental faculties to realize she was the one actually spinning. By some miracle, she regained her bearings quickly enough to crash to the ground feet-first, rolling with the fall, and winding up sprawled on her back.

CC groaned and rolled onto her stomach as Euphemia descended from above. The pink-haired woman gracefully touched down and walked up to her green-haired companion.

"Sorry about that," she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "The landings are usually a lot smoother, but the Warp has been very turbulent lately."

"Where are we?" CC groaned, taking Euphemia's proffered hand and leaping to her feet.

"I thought you of all people would know this place," Euphemia grabbed CC by the shoulders and spun her around.

A quiet gasp passed between CC's lips as she beheld the sight before her. The floor she landed on was floating in midair, suspended over puffy grey clouds. A grand staircase lay before her, each wide step floating in place. At the midway point up the staircase, the stumps of two pillars flanked the structure. At the top, she could see an enormous temple-like structure. It had clearly seen better days: most of the Stonehenge-like structures surrounding it had collapsed or seemed about to collapse. Only a few pillars of the massive temple-like building that lay in the center still remained. Despite all the intervening millennia, recognition proved instant.

"That which you know as C's World," Euphemia chimed in, "represents one of the last stable pockets of the Warp. I have declared this area under my protection, and so none of the minions of Chaos dare tread here."

CC shot the other woman a surprised look.

"We must hurry. I can sense one of Lelouch's soul fragments nearby. Daemons dare not approach it, but it has wandered the Warp for twenty thousand years. Its defenses will not hold for very much longer."

With a wave of her staff, Euphemia dispelled the illusion of clouds surrounding C's World, revealing the maddening geometries of the Immaterium and the horde of daemons that roamed them. Any lesser human would have gone insane upon facing down so many daemons, but CC merely drew her saber. The blade began glowing with psychic power.

"No need for that," Euphemia waved CC's blade aside and raised her staff.

A blinding beacon of light shined forth. The daemons, clawing at the borders of C's World just moments ago, scattered in terror, clawing over one another in a desperate bid to reach safety. The ones unable to move out of the way in time simply vanished as the light touched them. Something told CC that the daemons caught in the beam had been utterly destroyed, rather than merely sealed away. Euphemia casually stepped through the barrier and into the Warp. CC hesitated, but re-sheathed her sword and followed a moment later.

* * *

**?  
2018 a.t.b**

Amidst Nunnally's crying and the crowd's chanting of Zero's name, Lelouch vi Britannia, the ninety-ninth emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, known to the world as the Demon Emperor, lay dying.

_Dying isn't so bad_, he thought as his blood pooled around him, _The pain's going away. I'm feeling lightheaded. I think I'll just close my eyes for a while. I feel so tired…_

"Wake up."

When Lelouch reopened his eyes, it took him half a second to realize he was floating in empty space. A pitch black void stretched for a seemingly-infinite distance in every direction.

_Ah. This must be hell, then._

"Perhaps. The ancient shamans of Earth merely knew this place as the realm of raw emotion. There was once a time souls would pass through this realm to be reborn."

Lelouch shielded his eyes as a blinding flash illuminated the surroundings. A floor suddenly appeared below his feet, and he found himself facing a silhouette. Try as he would, he could not make out any features save for the new arrival's outline.

"Who are you?" Lelouch croaked.

"I have been known by many names throughout time. However, you may refer to me as the Guardian."

"The guardian of what?" Lelouch asked almost reflexively, "And how do you know my name?

"I would be more worried if you didn't ask," the figure laughed softly, "To answer your question, I must first tell you a story."

The figure raised its staff into the air, dispelling the illusion that surrounded him. A blinding flash overwhelmed Lelouch's vision, and he slammed his eyes shut while screaming in pain. Swirls of impossible colors and hurricanes of maddening geometries filled his view when he opened his eyes again. Any mortal man would have been driven insane a thousand times over, and even Lelouch found his psyche straining.

"You are looking at the primal energies of chaos and emotion, separated from the universe you know so well by only a thin veil of reality. Ancient humanity once called this realm the Sea of Souls, but that era has long since been forgotten and the knowledge of the ancient shamans was lost with it. Only now, countless thousands of years later, have humans begun to rediscover this realm. By pure chance, humans discovered a stable pocket with this normally-chaotic dimension and began utilizing its power. I take it you are familiar with C's World?"

Lelouch's eyes widened at the revelation.

"This realm—which humanity will one day come to know as the Warp or the Immaterium—was not always like this. There was once a time when souls could pass through to be reborn. However, the thoughts and deeds of countless sentient races have given birth to four principal powers of Chaos. Souls no longer reincarnated, but were instead consumed by the now-hostile denizens of this plane."

Lelouch opened his mouth, but the Guardian continued before the question could pass between his lips.

"By the time Earth reached the medieval era, three of these Chaos Gods had reached full awareness. Khorne, the Lord of Blood. Tzeentch, the Architect of Fate. Nurgle, the Master of Pestilence. The fourth and final Chaos God—Slaanesh, the Prince of Excess—slumbers in the Warp, awaiting its birth."

A feeling of foreboding crept up Lelouch's spine.

"However, that will not happen for millennia more to come. In the meantime, humanity will develop and flourish, pushing its boundaries ever further. Spreading to every corner of the galaxy, mankind will reign almost unchallenged for almost ten thousand years. The birth of Slaanesh will mark the end of this golden age, and a million years of darkness will follow. Warp storms will engulf the galaxy, isolating the worlds of humanity from one another. Cut off from the food shipments they relied upon, countless worlds will starve. Many others will simply disappear, consumed by the Warp and becoming feeding grounds with the daemons within. Still others will descend into chaos and barbarism."

Lelouch staggered backwards as images of a strong and united humanity gave way to those of a barbaric age little better than the one he had given his life to end.

"All is not lost. The ancient shamans foresaw such a day. As the Warp consumed their souls in ever-greater numbers, the remaining shamans hatched a bold plan. Rather than reincarnate, they would pool their collective power and create a being that lived forever and thus had no reason to reincarnate. Thousands gathered and simultaneously poisoned themselves, the flood of souls into the Warp forcing past the predators within through sheer numbers."

The former Demon Emperor did not like where the Guardian's train of logic was currently heading.

"I am the guardian of this well of power. Throughout the ages, fragments of the ancients' powers have reached the mortal realm in the form of the Geass and the Code. However, the vessel the shamans wished for, one that could actually contain and control their collective powers, failed to appear for thousands of years. Lelouch vi Britannia…no, Lelouch Lamperouge, you are that vessel."

Lelouch felt a great weight settling on his shoulders, and he dropped to his knees. Clutching his head, he fell to the ground and writhed in pain. Somehow managing to stay conscious through the haze, he rolled over to see the object he knew as the collective unconsciousness of humanity hovering over him.

"With your Zero Requiem, you shouldered the weight of the world. Now, Lelouch, you must shoulder the weight of the galaxy. With your newfound powers, you can reduce those millions of years of darkness and barbarism to a mere ten thousand. Be warned: the path ahead is paved in the blood of trillions. It will be fraught with peril, and even the slightest misstep will doom humanity. Humanity may never regain the might it will hold at its height, but it might survive."

Lelouch Lamperouge screamed as millions of images flashed through his head at once. The entire width and breadth of humanity's history forced its way through his psyche. One moment, he was standing amongst thousands of shamans, poison in hand. The next, he stood over an army of thunder warriors, prepared to forcibly bring enlightenment to the barbarian tribes. Then he stood at the head of another army, bringing the truth to the galaxy. A flash, and he now stood in a room with walls covered in sanity-blasting iconography, facing down a hulking man many times his size.

"Lelouch vi Britannia died at the Zero Requiem. Lelouch Lamperouge died just now. From this point on, you will be known as the Emperor of Mankind."

Mercifully, Lelouch blacked out soon afterwards.

* * *

**Lelouch vi Britannia's Tomb  
?**

CC would have been lying to herself if she claimed she knew why she undertook such a dangerous journey. With the Knight of Zero thought killed in battle and the Demon Emperor assassinated in front of millions, she had become the most hunted person in the world. After taking all the time and trouble to completely change her identity and effectively disappear, she risked ruining it all on little more than a whim.

Travelling slowly and often by night, CC trekked through Britannia to the hidden site of Lelouch's tomb. She was no stranger to living on the run, but the trip still pushed her to the very limits of her sanity. Every footfall was a soldier on his way to apprehend her, every stranger an informant, and every stray shadow a spy. She had experienced several close calls, escaping only through her own guile and sheer dumb luck. With every step she took, wounds she thought had already closed reopened.

Each step CC took towards the mausoleum felt heavier and heavier, and not in a completely metaphorical sense, either. By the time the simple and unassuming structure came into view, CC could only trudge slowly forward. She could feel a pressure slowly building in the back of her skull. Twenty meters away, she could no longer stand. The green-haired immortal collapsed of exhaustion a mere five meters from the tomb. Some unknown force, however, compelled her to continue despite the blinding headache she was currently suffering from. With the last of her strength, she dragged her body along the last few meters and extended her arm. Her fingertips brushed against the cold marble as she lost consciousness.

Had she looked at her reflection, she would have seen her Code glowing brightly.

* * *

CC opened her eyes to find herself floating in space. Though she saw nothing, she instinctively knew there was a floor under her, and she staggered to her feet with great effort.

"I see you chose to heed my message."

CC whirled around to see a silhouette wreathed in light. Even half-blinded by the backdrop, CC could see that the lithe figure wore a long dress and wielded a staff.

"Do not be alarmed, CC…or perhaps I should say…"

CC's eyes went wide as she heard her name for the first time since Lelouch had used it.

"Have I got your attention now?" the figure did not wait for a reply before continuing, "Good. We have much to discuss and far too little time in which to do so."

* * *

When CC awoke, she found herself in a location far from Lelouch's time and without clear recollection of the past few days. The enormous gaps in her memory, however, took second seat to the sight that confronted her. She weakly raised a hand to trace the contours of a face she had never imagined she would ever see again. In response, the face's owner leaned down to cup her face. With light touches of her pointer finger, CC traced the Code on his throat.

In a move that surprised even CC herself, the green-haired immortal grabbed the newly-resurrected Lelouch vi Britannia around the collar and pulled his face down to hers. Before the violet-eyed former royal could protest, CC crushed her lips against his.

Several days later, a hay cart was spotted leaving Britannian soil.

* * *

**The Warp  
017.M51**

CC gasped, her back arcing as the vision receded. Her limbs, having locked themselves as soon as the images started, relaxed, and the immortal sank to her knees. Falling to all fours, she panted heavily, eyes wide.

"What was that?" CC gasped out.

"You've just run into the first of Lelouch's soul shards. Each one embodies an aspect of his being. What you just witnessed was Lelouch in flux, him changing from a mortal man into the most powerful Psyker history has ever and will ever know," the Guardian explained.

"Where is it now?" CC asked, recovering her breath and realizing that the shard's psychic pressure had disappeared.

"Inside of you," Euphemia explained nonchalantly.

CC's eyes widened.

"Do not be alarmed. The shards will not harm you. Your own powers are not insignificant: almost any other would be reduced to ashes by now. For the short period of time you will harbor them, you can safely act as the shards' vessel. Additionally, they feel an instinctive attachment to you. Look," the pink-haired woman pointed towards a spot behind CC.

CC whirled around to find a blue pinpoint of light hovering behind her. It darted to and fro, circling her. She reached out a hand to touch it, but no visions assaulted her as several willowy fingers passed through the light.

"Much less than harm you, the shards are using their powers to protect you. Now, come, we have many more shards to recover before Lelouch can awaken."

With that, Euphemia slammed her staff into the ground. The duo disappeared to further reaches of the Immaterium.

* * *

**A/N:** And there we go! The plot is starting to take off now, with Abaddon's fleet arriving in just a few chapters! In this current arc, we will explore the secrets of the Imperium's founding and that of the Black Knights. Humanity will not stand alone in the upcoming battle!


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Age of Terra

**Disclaimer: **As far as I know, I do not own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_. If this changes at any time, I would appreciate somebody letting me know.

**Chapter Eleven: The Age of Terra**

**?  
The Warp**

The daemon had no time to look surprised before CC cut him into ribbons with her saber. Euphemia twirled her staff, strategically firing off beams of light that disintegrated any Warp-spawn they struck. The two women stood back-to-back, surrounded on all sides by a respectably-large horde of daemons and assorted Warp creatures.

"Are you sure you can't use that area attack?" CC asked in exasperation.

"At our present location," Euphemia shot back, "I'll draw even more daemons to us if I use it!"

A Khornate daemon roared in triumph as he looped a hand around CC's sword arm. The look of smug satisfaction gave way to confusion as, no matter how much of his strength he used, the thin limb refused to yield.

"You really think a small fry like you can harm me?" CC asked, slightly insulted.

Before the daemon could react, CC twisted his arm around. A wet _snap_, followed by a howl of pain, was heard as the daemon released his grip. He cradled his wounded arm, now bent at an unnatural angle. CC looped her free arm around his neck and kneed him in the back before throwing him over her hip and onto the ground. With the same look one would give an insect before snuffing out its life, CC crushed the daemon's head with a savage stomp.

"Now," CC turned towards the daemons, brandishing her saber and speaking in a low and menacing voice, "Any of you still think you stand a chance?"

The daemons turned around and ran away. Euphemia visibly relaxed the grip on her staff and the psychic energy around CC's saber dissipated. The soul fragment the daemonic horde had sought to devour reappeared, floating down into CC's outstretched hand.

* * *

**Georgian Coast, Atlantic Line, Britannia  
2025 a.t.b, Year 5 of the Great War**

Along with devices such as the longbow and the repeating rifle, the Knightmare held the title of the most feared weapon of its era. First pioneered by the Holy Britannian Empire, the introduction of the Knightmare frame radically altered the state of modern warfare. Controlling by far the most and richest deposits of Sakuradite, Britannia fielded high-performance melee-oriented models that unfortunately proved quite power-hungry. Other nations scrambled to catch up but, lacking significant Sakuradite deposits of their own, focused on developing lower-performance models geared towards ranged combat.

With the rise and fall of Lelouch vi Britannia, the Demon Emperor, came a radical shift in the international balance of power. With the abolition of the Numbers system, Britannia entered an economic recession that left it unable to adequately maintain its massive army. When the Battle of Mt. Fuji destroyed much of Japan's Sakuradite supply, the market price of the precious superconductor skyrocketed. Left with only their own, rather poor, deposits of Sakuradite, Britannia was forced to mothball huge numbers of Knightmares.

Britannia's rival hegemons, the Euro Universe and the Chinese Federation, saw an opportunity in Britannia's dwindling military and economic strength. Despite the best efforts of the United Federation of Nations, the two superpowers descended upon the weakened Holy Britannian Empire in hopes of claiming its lands and the rich natural resources contained within for themselves.

On April 1, 2020 a.t.b., barely two years into the reign of Nunnally vi Britannia, the Great War began.

Though its Knightmare forces had dwindled to nearly nothing in the two years between the death of the Demon Emperor and the outbreak of the Great War, Britannia still maintained a sizable conventional army. Under the leadership of brilliant generals such as Cornelia li Britannia and the ever-enigmantic Zero, Britannia's army actually won many early battles. However, the onslaught from two directions proved overwhelming, and Britannian forces continued to lose ground.

Following a bloody rout at Kasserine Pass, where the Euro Universe introduced the much-feared Panzer-Hummel Ausf. B, Britannian engineers scrambled to design a cheap and energy-efficient Knightmare specialized for ranged combat. They began at a severe disadvantage compared to their counterparts, who had designed such Knightmares for years. A design submitted by a team under Lloyd Asplund and Cecile Croome was eventually chosen, and the Empress herself granted them unlimited budget and resources to make the proposal a reality. The resulting Knightmare, officially designated the "Matilda," was well-armed but thin-skinned and prone to catching fire.

Though derisively nicknamed the "Zippo" by its crews, the new Knightmares proved a devastating surprise at the Battle of Tobruk. Britannian forces were eventually forced to abandon the city, but they inflicted a dear toll on the opposing European force. Deployment to the Chinese Federation front followed several months later, with the Matilda and the aging Gun-Ru meeting for the first time in Manchuria. The Matilda easily slaughtered its Chinese counterpart, and Britannian forces advanced all the way to Canton before a vigorous counterattack finally drove them back.

As the war ground on and casualties soared into the tens of millions, Britannia was confronted with an increasing inability to replace combat losses and flagging morale back home. A surprise attack on its Midway and Pearl Harbor bases had destroyed much of Britannia's naval presence in the Pacific, and rumors persisted that the Chinese Federation was massing for an invasion of the Britannian homeland. On the eastern coast, the invasion was already happening. For months, successively larger European invasion fleets pounded the coastal defenses of the Atlantic Line. With each failed attempt, the Britannian military diverted ever-larger numbers of troops to reinforce the line, which currently stretched from Maine to the southern tip of Florida.

The souls manning the portion Atlantic Line on the Georgian coast, weary and exhausted and battered from months of constant fighting, mustered a newfound energy when the transport of Nunnally vi Britannia suddenly showed up on their landing pad.

* * *

Though her years as Empress of Britannia had taught her to hide her emotions well, Nunnally vi Britannia nearly burst out in tears as she surveyed the scenes before her. During her inspection of the Atlantic Line fortifications, she had seen thousands of Britannian soldiers from all walks of life. In the rare instances she saw the face under the helmet, she saw boys and girls as young as sixteen fighting in a war that had broken fully-grown adults. She saw gaunt faces with dark bags under their eyes. She saw starving soldiers, many barely able to hold their rifles and some thin enough that their ribs protruded. She saw wounded soldiers suffering due to lack of adequate medical supplies. The officer escorting her could not possibly be any older than twenty, but his haunted and haggard look made him appear many years older.

The five years that the Great War had raged for had largely numbed Nunnally to such sights. She hated the fact, but she could not deny it. She had toured countless bases on every front, many times coming within miles of enemy lines. What got to her was how the soldiers handled their situation. No matter how exhausted or how starving, they always stood a little straighter when she passed. Some may have done it out of fear, but she sensed that just as many did it out of loyalty to her vision of peace.

"Incoming!"

The next few moments turned into sheer agony for Nunnally and her unusually-sensitive hearing as missiles rained down on the Atlantic Line. She could see soldiers and Knightmares running left and right as VTOL craft struggled to take off amidst bombardment. Missiles landed amidst troop formations, leaving craters in the ground and body parts raining down. A nearby building took a hit and was reduced to smoldering rubble.

"Get down!"

Nunnally felt somebody slam into her as a Knightmare passing nearby took a hit. The resulting explosion annihilated the mech far too quickly for its ejection system to have kicked in. Nunnally screamed in agony as the shockwave ruptured her eardrums and tossed her out of her wheelchair and into the air. As she clamped her eyes shut, she could feel several bodies landing near and on top of her. Another missile landed nearby, and the resulting dust cloud blocked the rest of the scene. The Empress passed out as the second shock wave hit her.

* * *

Nunnally awoke several minutes later. The first sight to greet her was the hollow stare of the Lieutenant that had guided her through the base. From the horrific injuries on his and surrounding bodies, Nunnally could easily deduce that the officer and several of her bodyguards had thrown themselves over her and used their bodies as a shield from shrapnel. With great effort, she managed to push the bodies off of her and sit up. Her wheelchair had not been as lucky as she, and she doubted it would work in its present state.

Instead, she crawled towards the shattered windows, taking extra care to avoid the shattered glass that littered the floor, to see the battle raging outside. A group of Matildas had managed to assemble into a firing line. Though she couldn't hear anything, the shaking ground told Nunnally that the blocky Knightmares were attempting to suppress the European landing forces and their naval support. The mechs' crews had fallen into a rhythm with their shoulder-mounted 105mm howitzers, the first cannon of the left-most Matilda being ready to fire as soon as soon as the second cannon of the right-most Knightmare had fired. The disposable four-cell missile pods that took the place of their forearms fired as quickly as hangar crews could deliver fresh launchers. VTOL craft roared overhead, ready to intercept the enemy's air support as well as harass their naval fleet. Infantry had taken cover anywhere they could: behind sandbag barricades, behind bits of wrecked building, even amongst the legs of Matildas.

Without her hearing, Nunnally failed to notice as several Britannian soldiers approached her from behind. Noticing the stream of dried blood starting at Nunnally's ear canals, the Britannian squad leader made his presence known by kneeling down beside her. Nunnally turned to face him, her eyes looking straight into his helmet's eye-pieces. The Staff Sergeant produced a notepad from one of the pockets on his body armor and a pencil from another. He hurriedly scrawled something down and turned it towards Nunnally.

_EU forces have breached the defensive walls. We're holding them off the best we can, but we need to get you to safety._

Nunnally nodded, motioning towards her ruined wheelchair. The soldier responded by squatting down, and another soldier helped her climb onto his back. After several seconds of shifting her weight around, Nunnally nodded and the soldier slowly stood up, his arms looped around his back and behind her knees for support. After taking another second to make sure they wouldn't stumble, the squad leader nodded to the others and they headed for the exit.

Their escape was cut short by several EU soldiers bursting through the door. Caught by surprise in such close quarters, Nunnally's would-be rescuers didn't stand a chance.

Pinned underneath a dead body for the second time in so many minutes, Nunnally found herself staring down a dozen gun barrels. The European soldiers seemed to talk amongst themselves for several seconds, most likely wondering what a civilian girl was doing amongst the Atlantic Line. Finally, one seemed to recognize her. Even with their faces hidden behind goggles and facewraps, Nunnally could clearly see their surprise. Most likely unable to believe their luck, the enemy soldiers hesitated.

That hesitation proved fatal as a pair of lanky arms grabbed one of the soldiers from behind and snapped his neck. The remaining soldiers whirled around to face the new arrival, but he had already disappeared. Nunnally's eyes widened as a lanky figure flashed into existence behind another soldier, clamping one hand over his mouth as he broke the soldier's spine over his knee. He picked up another European soldier and threw him through a wall—a solid concrete wall, Nunnally had to add—before picking up his first victim's body and using it as a shield while riddling the remaining opponents with the soldier's assault rifle.

It was when the figure walked up to Nunnally and knelt down in front of her did she finally get a good look at him. His disguise was cobbled-together but effective: clothing one could buy from any discount retailer, a scarf wrapped around his head, and dark sunglasses. He placed a finger in front of where Nunnally estimated his mouth would be and disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

A feeling of triumph welled up in Private Odessa Stilling's chest as the Panzer-Hummel Ausf. B ground to a stop and exploded. With Britannia's Knightmare forces lagging behind technologically and numerically, tank hunter infantry like Stillings had figured more and more into the Empire's military doctrine.

"More of them incoming!"

Stillings crouched back behind the rock, signaling to her loader/spotter for another rocket. She slung the bulky launcher back over her shoulder, with only long practice preventing her from braining herself or her companion. As she lined up the nearest Panzer-Hummel Ausf. B in her sights, she heard the distinctive _thunk_ of an anti-armor rocket sliding home followed by a tap on her shoulder indicating her loader was out of the backblast radius.

Stillings tried to ignore the cut-off screams over her radio as one of the European Knightmares pivoted around and riddled one of the camouflaged Britannian positions with its waist-mounted machine cannons. A Matilda, caught too far forward by the sudden enemy charge, managed to annihilate one of the Panzer-Hummels and heavily damage another before the enemy Knightmares' 88mm arm cannons blew it to pieces.

The unfortunate Britannian Private nearly voided her bowels as another of the European Knightmares turned to face her. She snapped off a shot in panic only to witness the rocket bouncing off the Knightmare's thick frontal armor. Both her and her loader closed their eyes as the Panzer-Hummel's machine cannons fired, but the pain never came.

Stillings opened her eyes to find a tall, lanky figure standing between her and the enemy Knightmares, the large-caliber rounds hovering in midair inches from his body. The Panzer-Hummels hesitated for a split second, as if unsure of what to do, before renewing their bombardment. Hundreds of machine cannons shells, and even several of the 88mm shells, streaked towards the new arrival only to stop just before reaching him. Then, to the Private's amazement, the shells slowly flipped over in midair and screamed back towards the Knightmares. The enemy scatted, but they were only able to delay their destruction by mere fractions of a second.

Before Stillings could thank her savior, he disappeared.

* * *

Morale amongst the EU troops shattered at the news of a new Britannian weapon capable of intercepting their gunfire and sending it back towards them. The defenders of the Atlantic Line easily drove the demoralized troops back into the sea. As the enemy fleet pulled back, a freak typhoon swallowed up all but a handful of ships that would carry news of their devastating defeat back home.

Though Nunnally ordered a full-scale search for their mysterious rescuer, no trace of him was ever found. However, the mysterious figure would reappear on multiple battlefields in aid of beleaguered Britannian forces. He would eventually receive a name, derived from the etching he'd leave on the battlefield, apparently as a calling card.

Thus began the legend of the Aquila.

* * *

**Outskirts of Salt Lake City, Britannia  
2026 a.t.b, Year 7 of the Great War**

Cornelia li Britannia stared blankly at the clock as it struck midnight. The digital display below read April 1, 2026. The Great War had officially reached its seventh year since the April Fools' Offensives, the simultaneous landings in Kyushu by the Chinese Federation and the surprise attack on El Alamein by the Euro Universe that began the war.

She was tired. Tired of all the fighting, all the death, and most of all, she was just _tired_. Under her leadership, the remnants of the Britannian military on the west coast had stalled the Chinese advance at the California-Nevada border for nearly two months. Then the enemy launched a surprise offensive into Alaska and annihilated the defending army when they attempted a counterattack at Anchorage. Gilbert G.P. Guilford, commander of Britannian forces in Alaska and Cornelia's husband, was among the dead.

"Who would have thought this day would come? The day the Witch of Britannia herself desires nothing but an end to the fighting?"

Cornelia whirled around in her chair, whipping her handgun out and putting five rounds into the intruder out of sheer reflex. Her eyes widened as she found herself looking straight at the Aquila himself. His outfit had evolved over time, from something straight out of a thrift shop to clothing that would have to be specially-made. His clothing was close-fitting, his tunic largely hidden under a bulletproof vest and shoulder pads and his pants tucked into knee-high boots. The vest and his helmet was nicked and dented from multiple bullets striking and apparently bouncing off. A mask hid his entire face save for his mouth and chin.

"I see your reflexes are sharp as ever," the Aquila remarked, spitting out the bullet he held between his teeth and dropping the four he held between the fingers of his right hand.

"Aquila," Cornelia's eyes narrowed, "What do you want?"

"The Chinese general can sense your army is nearing its breaking point. He plans to attack you at daybreak."

"Why are you helping us? What can you possibly stand to gain?" Cornelia yelled.

"I too believe in your Empress' vision of peace. Should Britannia fall, the Euro Universe and the Chinese Federation will rip one another apart over the spoils. Perhaps in preventing this, I can obtain some absolution for sins of the past."

Cornelia's eyes widened.

"Are you…"

"No," the Aquila cut her off, "That man is dead."

Before Cornelia could ask any more, the Aquila disappeared. The flap to her tent flew open seconds later, and an officer with several soldiers behind him poked his head in.

"Ma'am, are you all right? We heard gunshots."

"I'm fine," Cornelia muttered, waving the officer away.

True to the Aquila's word, the Chinese army attacked Salt Lake City at sunrise. As the overwhelming force approached Britannian lines, an ominous rumbling filled the air. Though the skies were completely clear, lighting rained down amidst the enemy army, annihilating huge swathes of infantry, reducing Knightmares to dust, and battering aircraft out of the sky. By the time they finally reached the Britannian fortifications, the Chinese army was significantly weakened and demoralized, but still more than large enough to overrun the city's defenses.

* * *

**Outskirts of Salt Lake City, Britannia  
Ninety-Six Hours Later**

Cornelia's coughs only furthered her agony as the shattered bones of her ribcage shifted. Bullet holes riddled her front, blood staining the front of her bulletproof vest and running down to pool on the ground. She felt lightheaded from the blood loss as flashing shapes danced in front of her eyes. She was no medic, but it didn't take much to see that only a major hospital had any hope of saving her. Even if the medevac arrived in time, she wouldn't survive the trip over. The corpsman kneeling down in front of her knew it too and did the only thing he could: dosing her with morphine to ease her suffering.

"What's your name, doc?" Cornelia asked, the pain now subsiding.

"Hospital Corpsman, Third Class Ted Kreiger, ma'am," the corpsman replied.

"Well, Corpsman Third Class Kreiger, how are the soldiers?"

The corpsman peeked out over the barricade for a second before returning to Cornelia's side.

"They've broken through, ma'am. Our Matildas IIs are raining hell on the Chinese."

"Good…" Cornelia trailed off.

On April 5, 2026 a.t.b., slumped against a sandbag barrier on the outskirts of Salt Lake City, Cornelia li Britannia breathed her last.

The Aquila's howl of anger and despair was heard throughout the battlefield as he descended upon the Chinese army with an animalistic rage. Thousands of soldiers were immolated by his mighty psychic flames or crushed or horrifically melted as shocked Britannian forces looked on. Their morale shattered and driven insane with fear, the Chinese army turned around and ran, only to be trapped within a ring of fire. The screams of agony as pillars of lightning and fire descended amongst the trapped soldiers, melting and turning to glass everything they touched, would haunt the few who survived the battle for years to come.

The Chinese Federation soon came to regret killing Cornelia li Britannia. Having been given a martyr to rally behind, the Britannian army launched a massive counterattack that would nearly drive the invading armies back to the coast.

It was too little, too late. Within months of the Battle of Salt Lake City, the armies of the Euro Universe would stand on the doorstep of Pendragon.

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

CC's lungs gasped for air as she returned to consciousness. No oxygen actually existed within the Warp, by at that moment, CC so desperately wanted air in her lungs that her lungs inflated anyway. She fell to all fours, gasping heavily as she shook off the nausea. The soul fragment hovered for several seconds before joining the dozens of pinpricks of light that now swirled around CC. The green-haired immortal could feel the nausea subsiding as the soul fragments projected a calming aura.

Though hardly deserving of the title anymore, the Great War remained a dark time in CC's extremely long memory that she would rather forget. When the fighting began, they had only begun exploring the extent of their psychic abilities. Despite years of intense practice, usually in the form of fleeing through a warzone, they could only predict and catch so many incoming rounds at once before something slipped through their defenses. By the time of the Aquila's emergence, they had been shot, burned, maimed, and blown up dozens of times. No matter how quick, death via a Panzer-Hummel Ausf. B's 88mm cannons was a fate CC would not wish on anyone. Then there had been a time, before the UFN stepped in and put a stop to it, that all three sides deployed white phosphorous…

CC collapsed again as a new wave of nausea slammed into her. No matter how painful, at least death via promethium flame was mercifully quick.

"Will you be all right? We can stop for a while if you wish," Euphemia stepped forward and placed a hand on CC's shoulder.

"No," CC firmly insisted, batting away the comforting hand and staggering to her feet, "I'll be fine. It happened thousands of years ago. Chaos always brings change, and all the suffering and bloodshed caused by both the Great War and the conflicts that followed would be more than repaid with the wonders of the Age of Technology."

"Do you _really_ believe that?" Euphemia asked pointedly.

"I think I sense another soul shard nearby," CC whirled around and hurriedly changed the subject.

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Thirty-Six Hours After the _Ikaruga_'s Appearance**

As Tech-Priests of the Magos Biologis scrambled around the desiccated corpse of the Emperor of Mankind in desperate search of any life-signs, the leaders of the Black Knights currently present had gathered in a huddle for a last-minute strategy meeting. Their escort of Archangel Knightmares and Psychic Special Warfare operatives formed a circle around them, making it abundantly clear that they were not to be disturbed for anything short of a Chaos God manifesting in the Imperial Palace itself.

"I've just received word from Field Marshal Barros. The 1st Army Group has just completed landings on Mars," Suzaku reported, "The 2nd and 3rd Army Groups are approximately eighty percent disembarked, and the 4th's landings are nearly seventy-five percent complete."

* * *

Though Captain-General Caius Quintinus maintained a respectful distance from the three immortals' meeting, he still turned an ear towards the proceedings. Shortly after CC departed for the Warp but before the strategy meeting, Suzaku had given him a brief rundown of the Black Knights organizational structure. Four Army Groups represented forty million men and women. There was a time when the Imperium lost that number of Guardsmen _daily_, but those days were long past. For the defense of Terra, every Imperial Guard regiment mattered.

Caius Quintinus was aware that the Black Knights' total population was quite tiny, especially compared to the Imperium's crowded Hive Worlds. From the tone adopted by the three leaders, he could gather that the forty million troops represented a significant portion of their total military might, if not their total population. What he didn't know was that the entirety of the Black Knights' civilization, tallying in at just a hair over five hundred sixty million souls, couldn't even adequately staff an Administratum Departmento.

"Field Marshal Schwer informs me," Kallen's voice filtered over to Quintinus' ears, "that approximately half of the 5th Army Group and a quarter of the 6th are on Mars. The 7th and 8th have arrived in orbit and will be kept in reserve."

If the battle for Mars went badly, the Black Knights would potentially be dealt a blow from which they would never recover.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon_**

Edge of the Terra System

"Captain, long-range sensors have picked up a massive disturbance in the Warp."

A deathly silence fell over the _Pendragon_'s bridge. Only one known fleet with sufficient size to generate such a disturbance was known to be currently heading for Terra. The moment they had all dreaded was near.

"ETA?"

"Twenty-four hours, Captain."

"Set the clock. Inform the rest of the fleet."

* * *

**A/N: **Will Lelouch awaken in time? Who will answer the hue and cry in humanity's darkest hour? Why am I talking like some sort of movie trailer announcer? Answers to come!


	13. Chapter Twelve: Black Knights Rising

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass_ and _Warhammer 40k_? Not mine.

**Chapter Twelve: Black Knights Rising  
**

Though Cornelia's Counterattack—named in honor of the deceased Cornelia li Britannia whose name the shattered Britannian Army had rallied behind—nearly broke the backs of the European and Chinese armies, the invasion of Britannia resumed within three months. Though dogged at every turn by guerilla fighters, the march inland continued inexorably. Determined to break the enemy's will to fight, the Euro Universe and Chinese Federation began carpet-bombing large swaths of the Britannian countryside, killing millions and leaving millions more homeless. The huge number of refugees fleeing inland lead to the worst humanitarian crisis the United Federation of Nations had ever faced in its short history.

Though unable to stop the Great War, the UFN did manage, under the expert—and occasionally ruthless—leadership of Kaguya Sumeragi, to send humanitarian aid shipments to the hardest-hit areas. Some subsequent arm-twisting by Jiang Lihua, former Empress Tianzi, led to the Chinese Federation grudgingly handing over their iceberg ships for use as offshore refugee camps. Nevertheless, millions more refugees remained trapped in the Britannian homeland, crowded into whatever makeshift camps could be set up for them. Faced with the threat of UFN retaliation, the invading armies opted to steer clear of such camps.

* * *

**Imperial Palace, Pendragon, Britannia  
2026 a.t.b, Year 7 of the Great War**

Pendragon, once the most magnificent city of the Western Hemisphere, had been hit hard by the Great War. In hopes of quickly battering down the fortifications around Pendragon, the Euro Universe unveiled a devastating new weapon: the multiple rocket launcher. Much to the European generals' surprise, the Britannian Army had developed a similar system and introduced it at the same time. By day, countless rocket entrails crisscrossed the skies over Pendragon as both sides bombarded one another with tens of thousands of rockets. By night, smoke choked the skies as EU aircraft fire-bombed the Britannian-held portion of the city.

Knightmares of the modern generation, never really designed for urban combat, began appearing less and less, and infantry came to dominate the Battle of Pendragon. Brutal street-to-street fighting raged around the clock as opposing armies fought for every building, sometimes even occupying different floors on the same building. Anyone foolhardy enough to poke their head above the rubble was liable to have it taken off by enemy snipers. Though the Britannian forces fought ferociously, stalling the EU advance and even gaining ground in some places, they were powerless to stop the armored spear thrust into the heart of Pendragon, the Imperial Palace itself.

* * *

"Protect the empress with your lives!"

The Royal Guard sergeant ducked behind a hastily-erected sandbag barricade just as a squad of EU soldiers rounded the corner. Even as a bullet pulped the head of the Guardsman standing next to him, the sergeant remained level-headed and put rounds downrange in short and disciplined bursts. One EU soldier staggered back, his chest riddled with bullets, before falling down dead. Another, a bullet having found the gap between his bulletproof vest and his helmet, fell to the ground gurgling and clutching his throat. Another bullet between his eyes put him out of his misery.

"Grenade!"

Without hesitation, the sergeant picked up the explosive and tossed it back. The EU soldiers scattered as it landed behind their barricade and exploded. One failed to react in time and was shredded by the shrapnel. Two others fell down, one dead and the other screaming in pain.

"The Empress has cleared the corridor! Fall back!"

Believing Nunnally's Royal Guard to be ceremonial troops due to their elaborate uniforms, the invading EU forces had rushed recklessly ahead. Much to their surprise and horror, the EU soldiers found themselves facing some of the most experienced and battle-hardened soldiers in the Holy Britannian Empire. What followed was a brutal, one-sided slaughter and a disorganized retreat. The second wave, though substantially better prepared and granted Knightmare support, still paid a high toll for every inch advanced.

* * *

The Royal Guards accompanying Nunnally screeched to a halt as a squad of EU soldiers rounded the corridor in front of them. In the crucial split seconds that the enemy recoiled in surprise, the Guardsman closest in the front slammed the butt of his combat shotgun into the faceplate of the closest EU soldier, shattering his helmet and caving in his skull. Two shotgun blasts echoed through the hallways and two soldiers fell dead before the remainder recovered their senses and pumped his chest full of lead.

"Don't let them reach the Empress!"

Several Guardsmen charged forward, swinging in every direction with their bayonets and rifle butts. The EU soldiers panicked at the sight of the charging Guardsmen and began recklessly spraying fire into the melee, killing as many of their own comrades as they did Royal Guards.

A Guardsman had reflexively leapt over Nunnally, using his body to shield her from stray rounds. She could only look on helplessly at his agonized expression and he took upwards of a dozen hits. He coughed up blood and died, but remained shielding the Empress. Nunnally, now on the verge of going into shock, vainly tried to wipe the blood off her face.

"Dammit! Another squad incoming!"

One of the Guardsmen drew his bayonet out of an EU soldier's chest only to be shredded by assault rifle fire. A dozen EU soldiers rounded the corner, weapons at the ready. This time the ones caught by surprise, the Royal Guards stood little chance.

Before any of the new arrivals could move in on Nunnally, Zero dropped down from the rafters. Landing in the midst of them, he elbowed one in the back and kicked another in the stomach before any of the soldiers could react. As the latter soldier doubled over, Suzaku dropped his elbow onto the back of his opponent's neck. A sickening _snap_ was heard and the soldier fell over dead. The first soldier recovered just in time for Suzaku grab him and snap his neck.

The remaining soldiers, having recovered from the initial shock, raised their weapons. Zero flew into action, disarming one soldier with a swift kick before crushing his windpipe with a well-placed jab. As one of the soldiers swung, Suzaku dropped down and smashed his knee with a well-placed kick. As the enemy howled in pain, Zero stole his knife and slashed his throat before whirling around and throwing the blade at another enemy. The knife embedded itself up to the hilt in the soldier's chest.

Suzaku dove between the legs of another soldier as the remaining opponents opened fire, the bullets meant for him burying themselves in the floor and in the chest of the unfortunate EU soldier. Grabbing one of the assault rifles littering the ground, Suzaku rolled over and dispatched the remaining enemies with one long burst.

Panting, Zero stood up and staggered over to Nunnally. With a grunt, he lifted the dead Guardsman off of the shell-shocked woman. She seemed to calm a little when he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Seeing that her wheelchair sparked ominously, Suzaku lifted Nunnally off his back and took off sprinting down the hallway.

* * *

**Imperial Palace, Pendragon, Britannia  
Two Hours Later**

Though he was panting heavily, his Zero outfit soaked through in sweat, and his muscles screamed from exertion, Suzaku's spirits soared as the exit came into view. Smoke choked the skies outside, and explosions blanketed the ground as EU rocket artillery and bombers mercilessly pounded the city below. More importantly, the evacuation craft—fueled up and ready to launch—was growing steadily larger in his sights. A squadron of Matilda IIs had formed up around the launch pad, their 105mm howitzers and missile pods devastating any enemy troops that tried approaching the walls. He could even see some old-school Knightmares—mostly aging Vincent Commander Types painted in Royal Guard colors—forming a second perimeter on the edge of the platform.

As he and Nunnally burst out into the open, Suzaku's hopes sank: the distinctive whine of EU transport VTOLs reached his ears and only grew louder. The shockwaves of the Matilda IIs opening fire nearly knocked him off his feet, and the sound deafened both of them. Suzaku looked up only to see the employment of an all-too-familiar tactic: Panzer-Hummel Ausf. Bs suspended below transport VTOLs by means of steel cables. Zero threw Nunnally to the ground and leapt over her just as a nearby Matilda exploded, the flaming hulk collapsing onto the escape craft.

The bombardment of autocannnon rounds, unguided rockets, and 88mm cannon shells continued unrelentingly, ripping through the Royal Guard Knightmares like so much tissue paper. The Vincents and Matilda IIs tightened their perimeter and fought back valiantly, however: for every one of their number reduced to scrap metal, a transport VTOL was destroyed and a Panzer-Hummel sent plunging to its doom below. The platform, already heavily-damaged from the initial bombardment, shook as several of the dreaded EU Knightmares dropped onto it.

"Surrender!"

Suzaku looked up only to stare down the barrel of an 88mm cannon. The EU pilot should have focused more on his surroundings, as a Vincent ambushed it from behind moments later, driving its MVS Lance through the Knightmare's cockpit. Autocannon rounds riddled the Vincent moments later, and the hulk was unceremoniously battered aside by another 88mm cannon barrel. Suzaku could see the autocannons on the Knightmare's hips shifting subtly, most likely as the pilot zeroed his crosshairs.

Before the Panzer-Hummel had a chance to fire, a Matilda II slammed into it from the side. Not giving the EU pilot a chance to react, the Britannian Knightmare drove its still-loaded left arm into the much-feared EU Knightmare's vulnerable flank and emptied all six missiles into it at point-blank range. The resulting explosion blew apart both the Panzer-Hummel and the Matilda's left arm. A second EU Knightmare slammed into the Matilda II from behind, crossing its 88mm cannon barrels in imitation of a bear hug. As Suzaku and Nunnally watched in horror, the Matilda II reversed, its landspinners screaming in protest and they pushed both it and the Panzer-Hummel. Though the EU pilot desperately tried to fight back with his own landspinners, both Knightmares plunged off the edge of the platform.

In a few more moments, it was all over.

* * *

Suzaku gritted his teeth as dozens of EU soldiers, assault rifles at the ready, surrounded him and Nunnally. More Panzer-Hummel Asuf. Bs trod over the wreckage of fallen Knightmares, Britannian and EU alike, to form an impenetrable steel circle.

"Surrender!" shouted one of the EU soldiers.

Before Suzaku could respond, one of the Panzer-Hummels tipped over, knocking over its neighbors like so many dominos. The Aquila leapt out from behind the fallen Knightmare, his fist wrapped around what appeared to be a vital hydraulic component. As he over the EU troop formation, he dropped the components and managed to crush a soldier who failed to react in time. Spinning gracefully in midair, the lanky figure landed feet-first beside Nunnally and Suzaku.

"Open fire!"

The Aquila raised his arms dramatically in the air, and the hundreds of bullets came to a stop mere centimeters from the trio. Suzaku stood up shakily and offered a hand to help Nunnally up. With a flourish, the Aquila dropped his arms, and the resulting storm of metal mowed down nearly all of the EU soldiers surrounding them. One of the EU pilots began radioing for reinforcements, apparently unaware he was hitting the external audio feed as he did so. The three could hear every word exchanged between the increasingly panicked pilot and his superiors.

"Aquila spotted in Sector D-5! We need reinforcements!"

"What are you talking about? The Aquila is in Sector E-9!"

"I have him here in my sights!"

"Negative! The Aquila is in Sector E-9!"

"This is Sector G-3, the Aquila is here! Taking heavy casualties!"

The exchange was cut off as the Aquila took off towards the Panzer-Hummel. With seemingly the same amount of effort one would put into opening a pickle jar, he ripped the Knightmare's arm off and used it to sweep the remaining Panzer-Hummels off their feet. Gouts of lightning issued from his fingertips, reducing the Knightmares to charred husks.

As Suzaku watched in dumbfounded awe, the Aquila turned to face him and Nunnally just as one of the Panzer-Hummels exploded. The dramatic effect was promptly ruined by a sniper bullet drilling between his eyes. Hairline fractures began spreading from the hole, and the mask shattered.

"Lelouch?" Suzaku managed to force out between his parched lips.

"Onii-" Nunnally began.

She was cut off by a sniper bullet hitting Suzaku just above the collarbone, travelling through his body and piercing straight through her heart. Before her vision faded to black, she saw two more Aquilae land gracefully from seemingly high up.

* * *

Suzaku's eyes shot open, darting right and left in a panicked daze.

"How are you feeling, Suzaku Kururugi?"

Suzaku reflexively leapt back as a blinding flash of light appeared before him. Even while shielding his eyes and giving them several seconds to adjust allowed him to only see a silhouette of the figure before him.

"Who are you? Where am I? Where's Nunnally?"

"Do you remember what happened, Suzaku?"

"The…the battle…EU soldiers in Pendragon…the Aquila…Lelouch…I was shot…am I dead?"

"Yes, Suzaku, you're dead," the mysterious figure replied with confidence only achievable by being absolutely correct.

The Guardian fell silent, allowing the news to sink in before continuing.

"More accurately, you are at a crossroads. You are being given something few have ever been offered: a choice."

An archway appeared to the left of the Guardian.

"You can accept your death and move on to whatever lays beyond, or," a second archway appeared to the Guardian's right, "you can go back. The work of the Aquila, of the one you know as Lelouch, is far from over. You will be granted power beyond the reckoning of mortal man, and you will stand beside him on the greatest crusade in history. The choice is yours, Suzaku."

* * *

**?  
Two Days After the Battle of Pendragon**

With a pained gasp, Suzaku shot upright in his bed. He ran his hands over his collarbone, finding only unbroken flesh. His eyes darted around the room, and he noticeably relaxed upon seeing Nunnally lying on the neighboring cot.

"There're clothes in the drawer beside your bed."

The former Knight of Zero whirled around to face the speaker, who was casually leaning against the doorframe. His voice failed him as yet another face returned from the dead.

"Kallen?"

As one of the main fronts of the April Fools' Offensives, Japan had been especially hard-hit by the Great War. The UFN garrison had been annihilated within weeks, and Chinese Federation forces mercilessly shelled and bombed the countryside. Todoh was reported dead during the Chinese army's initial push inland, and Kallen was supposedly killed when the remaining UFN forces in Japan made a final stand at Sapporo.

Kallen answered his question with an almost-imperceptible nod.

"Does that mean…"

"No," Kallen cut him off, "Todoh was killed at Fukuoka."

Suzaku closed his eyes and visibly slumped.

"If you're feeling well enough to walk, Lelouch and CC want to speak to you outside."

* * *

In the end, despite taking the Imperial Palace, EU forces failed to capture Pendragon. Their leaders had gambled upon taking and fortifying the city while a bulk of the remaining Britannian Army was busily engaging the Chinese along the Rio Grande. The city's unexpectedly-determined defenders had cost them extra time, and a series of tactical missteps by the Chinese generals prematurely doomed the Rio Grande Offensive. The EU army soon found itself besieged and surrounded from all sides. After nearly three months under siege and four unsuccessful breakout attempts, the remaining EU forces in Pendragon surrendered.

In the final days of the Great War, UFN peacekeeping forces located Odysseus eu Britannia—miraculously still alive and now a decorated war hero—and installed him as the new Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire. On March 23, 2027 a.t.b., faced with mounting pressure from the UFN and increasing unrest back home, representatives of the Chinese Federation and the Euro Universe arrived in Pendragon to negotiate a ceasefire.

Thus, the first act of Odysseus' level-headed—if not notably capable—rule was ending the Great War. Eight years of nonstop bloodshed and violence were followed by a period of rebuilding and an uneasy peace.

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

CC fell to her hands and knees, her breathing ragged and uneven.

She and Kallen had donned the mantle of the Aquila multiple times during the Great War, which only served to heighten the character's mystique. Reports of the Aquila showing up at multiple battlefronts—sometimes many kilometers apart—at once devastated enemy morale far more than Britannian guns. At Pendragon, she had swooped down on the invading EU forces with an almost-savage glee, ripping apart Knightmares with her bare hands and redirecting thousands of bullets back at their shooters. EU soldiers had literally run away screaming when she picked up an 88mm shell and threw it hard enough into a Panzer-Hummel to detonate the impact fuze. As always, she had let a few survive to bring word of the Aquila's deeds back to their lines.

"Are you sure you don't need a rest? You've relived some of early humanity's darkest years in the past few hours. Nobody would blame you if you were to take a few minutes' break."

CC collapsed onto the ground, exhausted mentally and emotionally.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer."

* * *

**?  
025.M20**

**"**Light's green! Go! Go! Go!"

Klaxons ringing, the ramp dropped. The occupants' goggles automatically polarized as blinding sunlight flooded the chamber. Without another word, they sprinted down the ramp and spread out as weapons fire peppered the ground around them. Las-bolts and autogun rounds bounced off the dropship's thick armor plates and pockmarked the ground. The assault squad threw themselves to the ground, below the firing arcs of the majority of the enemy gunners, and slowly crawled towards the sandbag barricades mere meters ahead.

"Heavy stubber dug in just beyond that ridge!"

"I can't get a bead on him!"

"Dammit…no choice, then. Cover me!"

The members of the squad all simultaneously sprang out of cover, spraying lasbolts in the general direction of the heavy stubber nest. The incoming fire noticeably slackened, and one of the assault team members vaulted over the barricade towards the fixed gun. The heavy stubber's distinctive barking started up again, but the storm of incoming lasbolts prevented the gunner from shooting accurately. Lucky lasbolt hits even claimed several of the troops clustered around the position.

"Frag out!"

With a mighty throw, the soldier lobbed a grenade right into the heavy stubber nest. A satisfying _whump_ reached all the Black Knights soldiers' ears and the stubber fire ceased.

"Squad, advance!"

* * *

"Impressive, aren't they?" Lelouch remarked.

The others nodded in agreement, usage of nonlethal test weapons and specially-programmed practice drones notwithstanding.

"Five thousand have reached adulthood, and another fifteen thousand are nearing that stage," a nearby scientist offered.

As Lelouch and his fellow immortals guided humanity from the shadows, they knew that the Black Knights would not always have the luxury of permanent colony worlds. Thus, they bought together the galaxy's best and brightest and tasked them with adapting humanity for the rigors of life in space. As the first batch of test subjects—among them the quinumvirate that led the Black Knights—soon revealed, gene mods and implants geared for fully-grown humans required specific tailoring to the recipient else risk rejection. On the scale they were required, such a solution proved too time- and resource-intensive for anything remotely approaching efficiency or even practicality.

Instead, the scientists engineered an entirely new strain of humanity. Having spent thousands of years infiltrating the upper echelons of human society, the Black Knights easily procured genetic material from all over the galaxy. Modified at the gamete stage with the aid of arcane sciences and staggeringly-powerful computers, the new human paradigm had taken centuries to reach its current stage. Decades of careful genetic tinkering and subtle psychic indoctrination lead to a subspecies of humanity noticeably more capable, both physically and mentally, than the average unmodified human and significantly longer-lived. More importantly, they boasted significant innate psychic ability while remaining nigh-invisible to the denizens of the Warp. Nobody dared breathe easy yet: the Black Knights' newest members had reached a vulnerable stage, and even the slightest mutation could doom the entire fledgling species.

Millennia later, scientists under the employ of the Emperor of Mankind would discover data pertaining to the creation of the Black Knights. Though fragmentary and corrupted with time, the information would be applied—albeit in a significantly more crude and brute-force method—towards the Primarch Project and its associated offshoots.

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

CC, now thoroughly used to the sensation, hardly batted an eyebrow as her consciousness swam back to the surface. The pinprick of light made several circuits around the green-haired immortal before joining the thousands that swarmed around her. True to Euphemia's word, the soul shards had protected her throughout their journey, pointing out dangers and occasionally ganging up on a daemon that managed to sneak up on her in the heat of battle.

"The Black Knights' dirty little secret," Euphemia remarked as if discussing the weather, "With ancestors the products of genetic tampering and cloning vats, could they ever truly integrate with the citizens of the Imperium? I'd bet identity and existential crises were pretty common."

"Back then, yes," CC deadpanned, "Nowadays, they'd probably be in for a greater shock upon discovering that the Imperium's humans tend not to have binary hearts or a ribcage of overlapping bone plates."

"Or the ability to toss around psychic abilities with minimal risk of being eaten by a Warp creature with the munchies?" Euphemia asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful lilt.

"That too," CC conceded.

* * *

**Orbit of Terra  
078.M25**

"They're running final diagnostics on the STC now. We'll be leaving in a few hours."

Lelouch offered a noncommittal grunt in response. CC knew him too well to fall for the façade of indifference: internally, he was every bit as torn as she was.

Between the Warp storms, the daemonic incursions, and the Machine Wars, the fall of humanity that Lelouch had long predicted was finally happening. Devastated by war and cut off from the food shipments that sustained them, thousands of human worlds starved and descended into feral savagery. Some were completely picked clean of life by daemons using unprotected Psykers' minds as portals. The Black Knights had long prepared for the inevitable exodus, first by genetically-engineering a hardy strain of humanity adapted for the rigors of life in space and then by constructing an evacuation ship.

Though shrouded in cloaking fields, the _Ikaruga_ and the drydock that housed it hardly needed them. Even from orbit, they could see the fires raging below as rioting and anarchy spread throughout the cradle of humanity. The _Ikaruga_'s main structure consisted of a stack of enormous hexagonal expanses centered atop one another, with the largest measuring nearly eight kilometers across. Four long arms arranged in a cross formation divided the main body into quarters. Bristling with docking bays and defensive armament, the _Ikaruga_ was far more than simply an evacuation ship: it would serve as the Black Knights' refuge for millennia to come. Self-sufficient and equipped with heavy industrial facilities, construction had taken nearly a century.

"Are you sure you can't come with us?"

In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, Lelouch closed the gap between them and embraced his lover.

"You already know the answer to that. Somebody has to stay behind and reunite humanity. Otherwise, this would have all been for nothing."

"Be careful."

Lelouch's eyebrows creased in confusion as he felt wetness on the front of his garments. Confusion gave way to surprise when he realized that CC was actually _crying_.

* * *

CC, her eyes now dry, numbly watched as the _Damocles_' airlock cycled closed. She hardly paid attention as Lelouch's command ship grew smaller and smaller into the distance. She gave only the most cursory of nods when a bridge officer informed her that the _Ikaruga_ had entered the Warp.

_I'll be back one day, Lelouch._

* * *

**?  
017.M51**

"It is done, my lord. The specimen is awake."

"Leave us."

"Yes, my lord."

The chamber's occupant watched as eyes flickered open for the first time. He remained perfectly still as the eyes darted in every direction, taking in every detail of the chamber. The two orbs settled on him for a split second as their owner pieced together his identity. He watched impassively as a blood-curdling scream filled the chamber.

* * *

**A/N: **And that's a wrap! This flashback arc finally comes to an end. This story has officially clocked in 52,000 words, making it officially a novel! Also, first omake in a while! This one can be safely filed under "I can't tell if Soraga has too little time on his hands or entirely too much."

* * *

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Appendix B: Genetic Modifications**

The regimen of genetic engineering and subtly psychic indoctrination that created the modern Black Knight remains one of the most ambitious experiments in human history, comparable to the creation of the Primarchs and the Adeptus Astartes. For decades, the galaxy's brightest human minds endlessly toiled in hidden labs, tweaking and adjusting the human genome to instill genetic predispositions for desirable traits. Genetic tinkering continued for centuries afterwards, throughout the fledgling species' vulnerable formative years.

Though dwarfed in scale by the Primarch Project and its related offshoots, the Black Knights' genetic engineering saw just as much—if not more—success. Even in the fifty-first millennium, mutation rate remains astoundingly low. Significantly-higher-than-average psychic affinity remains the most common mutation by an overwhelming majority, and such a mutation is seen as a boon rather than curse.

In the chaos surrounding the end of the Dark Age of Technology and the beginning of the Age of Strife, much of the research behind the Black Knights' gene mods was lost or destroyed. On the eve of the Great Crusade, the Emperor of Mankind and his circle of trusted scientists would use whatever fragments of data they could recover to create the Primarchs and, later, the Astartes warriors. Despite working with a significantly lower technology base and increased emphasis on brute force over subtlety and efficiency, the Primarch's genetic enhancements and the gene-seed of the Astartes warriors still display influences from this project.

The influence on Astartes implants by the Black Knights' gene mods are as follows:

_Secondary Heart:_ Prototyped. While one heart can partially take over the functions of the other, total loss of functionality in one heart, unlike an Astartes warrior, leads to swift death for a Black Knight.

_Ossmodula:_ Prototyped. The bones are strengthened, but not to the extent of an Astartes warrior's. Perhaps the most radical change introduced by this gene mod, one that it shares with the later Astartes implant, is the transformation of the ribcage into a series of overlapping bone plates. The additional bone growth observed in the Astartes gene-seed is a byproduct of a less efficient process and the decision to harden the bones to bulletproof levels.

_Biscopea:_ Prototyped. However, more emphasis was placed on toning already existing muscle and using it more efficiently. The Primarch Project adopted the more brute-force approach of simply growing more muscle due to the time and expense needed for the psychic indoctrination required by the Black Knights' version.

H_aemastamen:_ Present. However, while the Black Knights' version focused on increasing the oxygen capacity of their hemoglobin, the Primarch Project's version simply increased the hemoglobin count. The difference in methodology was a conscious design choice rather than a product of incomplete data, as nearly all the research on this gene mod was successfully recovered.

_Larraman's Organ:_ Not present. However, the Black Knights' gene modifications did include noticeable improvements to their natural healing abilities. Thanks to the gene mods, a healthy Black Knight can reasonably expect to live to approximately three hundred years old. Next to no information remains on the methods employed, and the gene-seed used by Astartes warriors is little more than a brute-force attempt to replicate the effects.

_Catalespean Node:_ Not present. The gene-seed for this implant would be created specifically for the Primarch Project. At the time the Black Knights' gene mods were developed, the idea of willingly switching off portions of one's brain in lieu of sleep still lay firmly in the realm of science fiction.

_Preomnor:_ Not present. A second stomach capable of digesting poisoned or otherwise-inedible substances was deemed impractical for their purposes. However, the Black Knights' gene mods did include several tweaks to their digestive systems to improve efficiency.

_Omophagea:_ Not present. Though jokingly suggested at an early project meeting, the idea of absorbing information through consuming another creature's flesh was quickly dismissed as "unfeasible" and "a travesty to all known science." Millennia later, the relevant conference minutes were discovered and, as the portions pertaining to it being supposedly impossible were lost, Imperial scientists successfully developed the implant.

_Multi-Lung:_ Not present. However, the Black Knights' genetic tinkering introduced a tendency towards higher lung capacity for increased stamina during intense physical activity and while operating in oxygen-poor environments. Additionally, space in the chest cavity became scarce following the addition of the second heart. In the end, it was decided that breathing underwater was simply not worth the need to expand the chest cavity.

_Occulobe:_ Prototyped. The Black Knights' version offers similar enhancements to vision without the extensive therapies, however. Once again, the exact methodology behind this gene mod was lost during the Age of Strife, and the Emperor's scientists were forced to work with a description of the mod's capabilities.

_Lyman's Ear:_ Prototyped. The gene mod used by the Black Knights focused on increasing the audible range and improvements to innate sense of balance. Though Black Knights are generally highly resistant to motion sickness and vertigo, this is more a result of their environment than gene mods. The Astartes version adds the latter capabilities at the expense of having to replace the entire ear rather than just a number of genes.

_Sus-an Membrane:_ Not present. Though discussed, the idea of a gene mod allowing for suspended animation was ultimately deemed unnecessary. The type of trauma required to trigger such a state, as many scientists working on the project argued, would likely spell near-instant death for the affected Black Knight anyway.

_Melanchromic Organ:_ Not present. Environmental factors, not gene mods, led to the Black Knights' tendency towards increased melanin levels.

_Oolithic Kidney:_ Prototyped. The gene mods used by the Black Knights significantly improves the filtering ability of their kidneys. However, they are unable to go into emergency detoxification comas as an Astartes can. Like the Lyman's ear, the Black Knights' gene mod required only genetic tinkering, while the Astartes version requires replacement of the relevant organ.

_Neuroglottis:_ Prototyped. The Black Knights' gene mods include some fine-tuning of their gustatory sense, but it is not enhanced to the extent of the Astartes'.

_Mucranoid:_ Not present. Humanity's innate resistance to heat and cold was considered sufficient for the Black Knights' purposes, and resistance to vacuum was rejected as unnecessary extravagance. Several inquiries concluded that anyone ejected into the vacuum of space or stranded amidst extreme conditions was unlikely to be recovered in time for such an implant to be of much use, thus leading to its eventual rejection.

_Betcher's Gland:_ Not present. Though discussed, an organ capable of producing corrosive poison was considered too combat-specialized for the Black Knights' purposes. The scientists working on the Primarch Project, however, discovered the proposal and developed such an implant.

_Progenoids:_ Not present. Due to the Black Knights' genetic modifications taking place at the gamete stage, the changes are passed down to their children. However, this also means that they are genetically-incompatible with the vast majority of humanity. Many considered this fact to be the project's greatest failure.

_Black Carapace:_ Not present. Though wildly successful in implementation, the gene mods and psychic indoctrination that granted the Black Knights their unique brand of psychic ability would have been far too time-consuming for use on the scale required for the Primarch Project and its related offshoots. Any attempts to accelerate the process would have made the mods dangerously unstable and highly prone to mutation. Additionally, data on the relevant procedures was almost completely lost during the Age of Strife.

An epoch in Knightmare development accompanied the addition of the genetically-modified humans to the Black Knights' ranks: the psycho-crystalline matrix. Designed specifically to take advantage of their psychic powers, Knightmares equipped with such technology proved far more responsive than their first-generation counterparts.

However, for all the project's successes, one can still argue that it ultimately failed. Though outwardly resembling unmodified humans, their biology is as alien as any xeno species. As a result of their modifications, they are incapable of fully integrating with the very species they were created to save. Only time will tell if and how the Black Knights will unite with the rest of humanity.

* * *

**A/N: **See you in Chapter Thirteen: The Arrival! Hmmm...that works out far better than I could have planned...


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Arrival

**Disclaimer:** Mirror, mirror on the wall, do I own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_?...Well, the mirror's not answering, but my magic 8-ball tells me that I don't own either of those.

**Chapter Thirteen: The Arrival**

**Imperial Battleship _Emperor's Vengeance_, Orbit of Mars  
Fifty Hours After the _Ikaruga_'s Appearance**

Ever since the logic engines had downloaded and installed the data packet sent from the _Pendragon_, a deathly silence reigned over the battleship's cavernous bridge. Not even the Lord Admiral, jaded from a hundred battles against the innumerable forces of Chaos, dared speak as the hololith slowly counted down to the arrival. So ingrained was the sense of impending doom that nobody needed to specify that the term referred to the Chaos fleet: it was simply "the arrival."

A beeping sound echoed throughout the chamber as the countdown reached zero. Though the sound itself was no more unpleasant than an alarm clock, it may as well have announced to the bridge crew the return of Horus. The next moment, the hololith display was nearly overwhelmed as thousands of reports streamed in at once.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Edge of the Terra System**

With even the Mechanicum shipyards around Mars taxed to the limit just replacing combat losses, Battle Fleet Solar was forced to look elsewhere for reinforcements. Any Imperial warship, regardless of previous assignment, was absorbed into Battle Fleet Solar at the first possible opportunity. What few civilian vessels that managed the long and perilous journey to the Terra system was immediately pressed into service upon arrival, from the garbage scows commandeered as minelayers to racing yachts converted into forward scouts. Irrespective of originating chapter, warships of the Adeptus Astartes were hastily organized into battle groups under the leadership of the Grey Knights chapter fleet.

In preparation for the arrival, Battle Fleet Solar had dispersed to form a loose perimeter around the projected jump-point. Many hundreds of thousands of kilometers sometimes separated the ships, and the line was a paltry two ships deep at points. The capital ships—the battleships, the grand cruisers, the Battle Barges, the strike cruisers—stayed back as the smaller vessels formed skirmish squadrons. Next to the massive slab-sided Imperial warships, the _Pendragon_ was nearly invisible. Even the comparatively-tiny Imperial escort ships swarming around the capital ships dwarfed the dreadnought and its sister ships.

The _Pendragon_ had tapped into the Imperial fleet's communications channels, its computers and communications officers working overtime to filter out all but the most important messages.

"The _Glorious_ and its battle group just reported in: weapons charged and ready for saturation bombardment."

"Message from a Space Marine strike cruiser…looks like Grey Knights…designated _Unshakeable Faith_…their Navigator just passed out. The Warp shadow is practically on top of us."

"Contact: readings consistent with a Chaos Murder-class cruiser, two Slaughter-class cruisers, and escorts," announced one of the communications officers, "Twenty-three distinct signatures identified."

"Incoming transmission from the Chaos fleet!"

"Jam it!"

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Glorious  
_Edge of the Terra System**

As the crew of the _Pendragon_ rushed to analyze the Chaos transmission and broadcast the appropriate counter-frequency, the booming voice of a Word Bearers Dark Apostle filled the bridge of the _Glorious_. Many of the crew fell from their seats, clutching their ears as the blasphemous verses and litanies assaulted their senses. One of the Navy Security troopers on the bridge, his sanity stripped away, raised his shotgun and began shooting. One of the bridge crew who ran forward to stop him flew back, a large chunk of his torso missing. A shotgun blast for a neighboring trooper who resisted the whispers of Chaos pulped his face.

"Omnissiah forgive me," muttered one of the Tech-Priests as she smashed the hololith speaker with a well-aimed mechadendrite.

Several additional Navy Security troopers with medicae in tow rushed onto the bridge, weapons at the ready. Several percussive _boom_s echoed throughout the chamber as the officers who were driven insane by the Word Bearer's chantings were swiftly put out of their misery. Several officers had dashed their own skulls against their consoles rather than turn heretic, leaving an unpleasant cleanup task for the newly-arrived personnel. Even those who lived and resisted the call of Chaos didn't emerge unscathed, many of them having thrashed around and collided with consoles and walls as they tried to block out the blasphemous litanies.

Captain Matyas Ekis groaned in pain as he shakily stood up while clutching the edge of a nearby console for support. One of the Security troopers rushed to his side, and the Imperial captain gratefully accepted the proffered hand.

"Sir, are you injured?" the trooper inquired while flagging down a passing medicae.

"I'm fine," Matyas dismissed the medicae with a wave of his hand before turning to one of the remaining communications officers, "Battle group status?"

"A minor outbreak of heresy on the _Indomitable_'s main gun deck," the officer, slumped over her console as a medicae tended to a gash on her forehead, replied moments later, "Navy Security teams are putting it down at the time of the report. Other ships report multiple administrations of the Emperor's Mercy."

"What's the status on the weapons decks?"

The sole surviving gunnery officer spent several moments speaking on the internal vox network before answering.

"Deck officers report that the first salvo is away. Main batteries are fifteen percent reloaded."

Fortunately, the Oberon-class battleship's cavernous gun batteries possessed no direct communication line to other ships. While the bridge crew endured the sanity-blasting litanies of Chaos, the innumerable deckhands dutifully loaded torpedoes and shells through chain and pulley, unaware of the events several decks above. Even if the Dark Apostle's voice had reached them, the deafening roar of hundreds of weapons batteries firing in rapid succession would have drowned out his words.

* * *

**Black Knights Frigate _Courageous  
_Twenty Minutes Later**

"FLEIJA tubes one through four are empty!"

"Overall hadron field density down to eighty percent!"

Though not as powerful as the heavier warheads found its larger cousins, the FLEIJA missiles of the _Courageous_ still represented a significant threat to the Chaos fleet. One of the torpedoes, despite its attempts to compensate, sailed straight through the gaps between the Chaos ships and detonated harmlessly in the distance. The other three locked on to an Idolator-class Raider. Busily carving up an Imperial light cruiser with its lances, the Chaos escort didn't spot the incoming warheads until too late. The resulting blast tore the ship apart and sucked in several nearby Chaos attack craft for good measure.

Vainly attempting to hit the nimble Black Knights vessel and its sister ships, the lumbering Chaos vessels blindly threw up an intense flak screen. Any hits they scored were due far more to luck than actual targeting. The _Courageous_ wove in and out of the virtual minefield of shells and torpedoes, some almost as large as the frigate itself. Despite the massive incoming barrage of Imperial torpedoes and Black Knights FLEIJA warheads, several Swiftdeath fighters peeled away from the fighter screen to pursue the nimble frigate.

The _Courageous_' rear batteries blazed away at both the pursuing fighters and the incoming missiles. To the Chaos pilots' surprise, the frigate suddenly snapped into a barrel roll normally impossible for a ship of its size, causing its pursuers to overshoot. The _Courageous_ gave them no time to recover, swooping down on them with its more substantial side and flank gun batteries. Swiftdeath fighters, their wings and control surfaces shredded, spun crazily out of control and collided with one another as they tried desperately to escape the withering hail of hadron bolts.

"Beam cannons charged and ready to fire!"

The tiny frigate inverted and dove towards one of the Slaughter-class cruisers, currently ganging up on an Imperial Luna-class with its companion. The Chaos gunners noticed the frigate, seemingly on a suicide run, moments later and desperately put up a barrage of point-defense fire. The nimble vessel evaded the shells, its bow glowing an ominous deep red. A fresh squadron of Swiftdeath fighters, supported by a flight of Doomfire bombers, pulled behind the attacking frigate and began unloading their weapons into its rear hadron field.

"Rear hadron field density down to sixty percent!"

"Maintain current course!"

The Slaughter's massive hull began to slowly swing around, the cruiser's state-of-the-art Scartix engine coil pushed to the limit to take it out of the frigate's firing arc.

"Cruiser at one thousand meters and closing! Nine hundred! Eight hundred! Seven hundred!"

"Rear hadron field density down to fifty-five percent!"

"Steady…steady…"

"Skimmer drive charged!"

"Fire! Engage skimmer drive!"

As the Doomfires launched a massive wave of armor-piercing missiles at the _Courageous_' rapidly-depleting rear hadron fields, the frigate's forward hadron batteries fired. A wave of red energy slammed into the cruiser's void shields. The energy fields crackled as they dissipated the enormous energy of the blast, straining but ultimately holding. The _Courageous_ disappeared in a flash of green just as dozens of armor-piercing missiles intersected the area of space it once occupied. The warheads sailed past, slamming into the Chaos cruiser's void shields and punching through the weakened field.

* * *

**Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Warhound Leader  
Edge of the Terra System**

"Warhound Leader to all units: the cruiser's shields are down! Form up and prepare for attack run!"

Warhound Leader slammed the brakes on his attack craft just as a trio of Chaos fighters swooped in from above. His hadron fields easily absorbed the brief burst of lasfire the enemy fighters managed to squeeze off before overshooting him. A few twitches of his Knightmare's limbs pivoted the Excalibur around to face the rapidly-retreating backs of the Swiftdeaths. Three long bursts of hadron fire reduced two of the fighters to scrap and sent the third veering away, uncontrollable following the loss of the majority of its control surfaces. The attack craft twisted around again, diving towards the now-vulnerable cruiser as its subordinates formed up behind it.

A squadron of Doomfire bombers, the same squadron whose missiles had lowered the cruiser's void shields, turned away in a desperate bid to escape. A storm of hadron bolts from an entire squadron of Black Knights attack craft reduced them to rapidly-expanding balls of gas and dust.

"Warhound Leader, bombs away!"

The Excalibur-class attack craft leveled out of their dive mere meters from the surface of the Slaughter-class cruiser and unleashed their anti-ship FLEIJA warheads. Unlike the smaller anti-starfighter variants, anti-ship FLEIJA missiles utilized a two-stage warhead: a one-use Needle Blazer to blast through the tough outer layers of a capital ship's armor followed by a FLEIJA warhead. Each ship of the Warhound squadron carried eight such missiles, and the pilots weren't shy with using them.

A squadron of Swiftdeath fighters, having escaped the destruction of the bomber wing they were escorted, pulled behind the Warhound squadron in a vain attempt to save the cruiser. Lacking the Excaliburs' agility, they tended to slam into the Chaos cruiser's numerous hull protrusions before they could lock onto the Black Knights craft. What few lascannon bursts the Chaos pilots managed to squeeze off were wild and off-target, either sailing past the Warhound craft or hitting the cruiser's already-weakened armor.

"Enemy cruiser breaking apart! Bug out!"

The image of the dozen Warhound attack craft peeling away from a successful attack run, silhouetted by the doomed cruiser's plasma reactor detonate, resembled something straight out of an entertainment holo.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Forty Minutes Later**

Thousands of triangles, from Black Knights blue to Imperial yellow to Chaos red, were jumbled together on the holographic display that now dominated the space overhead on the _Pendragon_'s bridge. Almost every time somebody looked up, another dozen triangles blinked out of existence. Most of the disappearing triangles were red, but the steady stream of red triangles appearing at the same time kept their numbers growing.

"Report from the _Courageous_: confirmed kill on Infidel-class Raider."

"Report from Warhound Leader: ordnance expended, returning for rearming."

Even without the colors, it was fairly easy to see who was who on the three-dimensional projection of the battlespace. The Imperial skirmishers stood their ground at all costs, winking out of existence amidst swarms of red triangles or immediately after ramming into one. The Black Knights craft blinked in and out of existence amidst the Chaos formations, appearing only long enough to launch a brief attack before disappearing again. They tended to be the only ones breaking free of the confusing melee at the center of the display, most likely to meet the squadrons of Valkyries situated throughout the no man's land between the current battle and the capital ship line to repair and rearm. The Chaos red simply pushed relentlessly ahead, the horde growing larger and larger with each passing minute.

"Distress signal from the _Baltia_. _Indefatigable_ en route to assist."

Very occasionally, the _Pendragon_ and the Imperial and Black Knights ships around it would send a volley into the fleet battle. With allied and Chaos ships so close together, friendly fire became a very real possibility, and the required firing solution calculations were a challenge even for the _Pendragon_'s computers, much less the Imperium's aging logic engines.

"Warp jump detected. Forty-three distinct signatures identified, including an Executor-class Grand Cruiser."

"Don't let that thing get within lance range! All ships, focus fire on the Executor!"

* * *

The relentless press of Chaos eventually won out even against the formidable power of the Imperium's Black Knights allies. The Imperial skirmishers all but destroyed and the remaining Black Knights on the retreat, the fleet battle turned into a clash of the titans. No longer restrained by fear of friendly fire, the line of Imperial and Black Knights capital ships had let loose with their substantial armaments. Hadron beams, lances, FLEIJA warheads, and plasma torpedoes alike tore through the initial waves of the Chaos advance, and many ships were crippled or destroyed outright trying to navigate the sudden debris field.

The Chaos vanguard's backbone was shattered with the rally of the Imperial skirmish fleet, its survivors suddenly turning around upon reaching the defense line and unleashing what ordnance they had left. In the chaos that followed, the Black Knights vessels stealthily flanked the enemy fleet and hammered it from all directions. Many ships were blown apart by FLEIJA warheads or sliced to pieces by hadron beams, and many more were lost to collisions as the panicking Chaos fleet tried to avoid the deadly weapons. When the Black Knights ships closed in once again, Chaos gun batteries rang out with little regard for firing solution, focusing only on destroying the nimble, hard-hitting enemy ships. Particularly daring captains waited until the enemy weapons fire nearly struck their hadron fields before engaging their skimmer drives. Friendly fire claimed far more casualties than hadron cannon or FLEIJA.

When yet another wave of Chaos ships, this one nearly five hundred strong, dropped out of the Warp, even the mighty Black Knights ships were forced to retreat and form back up with the Imperial line. A bloody and confusing melee followed.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship _Glorious  
_Three Hours Later**

The decks of the mighty Oberon-class battleship shook as it absorbed yet another punishing volley from the surrounding Chaos ships. The sheer weight of Chaos numbers had forced apart many of the Imperial ships, who were picked off one by one at the enemy's leisure. The Black Knights ships had jumped with dizzying frequency, often only firing a single volley between jumps, but they could only be in so many places at once. Many an Imperial ship, completely cut off from help, chose to self-destruct rather than risk capture. As the fighting dragged on, morale plunged as reports of Black Knights losses began arriving.

Chaos ships assaulted the _Glorious_ and its escorts again and again, every time coming closer to reaching the battleship. With each assault, the Imperial defenders grew increasingly desperate. One of the Endurance-class light cruisers, having fired its lance batteries to the point of burning out the emitters, escorting the _Glorious_ had gone as far as ramming into a Chaos Devastation-class cruiser and self-destructing. Despite the efforts of that light cruiser's crew and many others, the Chaos ships soon broke through and began assaulting the _Glorious_ itself. A Slaughter-class cruiser circled the lumbering battleship, unloading into its flanks as a Hades-class cruiser and a duo of Murder-class cruisers unleashed volley after volley of torpedoes and lances from afar.

"Fire on main gun deck! Estimated three hundred dead!"

"Main starboard batteries no longer responding!"

"Hangar Bay Three took a direct hit! It's venting into space!"

"Casualties?"

"We had a Starhawk squadron re-arming at the time! No survivors!"

"Lance strike to port bow! Torpedo Bay Three not responding!"

"Reports from security forces in Sector 17-A: boarding parties detected!"

* * *

**Security Checkpoint Beta-17  
Imperial Battleship _Glorious_**

"Cover me! Reloading!" shouted Naval Security Sergeant Marco Pulnik over the deafening _boom_s of dozens of shotguns.

Waves of cultists, some dressed in what appeared to be flak armor but the vast majority wearing rags, rushed the makeshift barrier only to be cut down by the security troops. They had already overrun seven checkpoints through sheer weight of numbers, but they had taken enough casualties that Pulnik's position gave them pause. With crates of shotgun shells stacked up behind the barricades, he and his squad had enough ammunition to hold out for days if necessary.

Marco's spine crawled as a wet gurgling sound assaulted his ears. A rank smell followed, and several troopers doubled over, emptying the contents of their stomachs onto the deck at the stench. The barrage of shotgun fire slackened as several troopers outright passed out. Another wave of cultists charged the barriers, and it took Marco only a second to realize that they were different from the previous ones. Rather than flak armor or rags, they were clad in what appeared to be Imperial bio-containment suits. Blasphemous and sanity-blasting symbols were scrawled all over them, and rents in the material revealed bodies swollen with contagion and festering wounds dripping pus. Worse than their appearance was the newly-arrived cultists' inhuman resistance to pain: even with several limbs reduced to pulp, they continued charging the checkpoint.

As the cultists began climbing over the barrier, Marco drew the power maul at his hip and thumbed the activation stud as he thrust it into the air.

"Death or glory! Charge!"

The Nurglite cultists would overrun the checkpoint minutes later.

* * *

**Command Bridge, Imperial Battleship _Glorious  
_One Hour Later**

Captain Matyas Ekis coughed, staining the front of his uniform with yet more blood. Even breathing bought searing agony, and he didn't need a medicae to tell him he had at least a cracked rib. Through sheer willpower and luck, he managed to force himself off the floor and onto his hands and knees. The floor was slick with rapidly-congealing blood and gore, and even propping his shattered body up on all fours was a daunting chore. His efforts proved for naught as a cultist kicked him back down. Matyas gasped in agony as he felt a rib snap.

"Why do you continue resisting?" a booming voice mocked him, "The fleets of the Despoiler are infinite, his armies endless! Our allies are legion! Before the might of Chaos, your precious Imperium will crumble!"

Matyas choked on his own blood as the massive form of a Chaos Space Marine loomed over him.

"Do you want to live? Your corpse-Emperor cannot save you! Pledge your life and soul to the Lord of Blood, and then perhaps you shall be spared!"

"The Emperor is my savior," Matyas choked out, his voice barely a whisper, "He is my protector. With the Emperor at my side, I shall fear…"

The captain's prayer was cut off when the Space Marine, now clearly enraged, grabbed him around the throat and slammed him into the wall. His vision spinning, Matyas' lips continued moving in silent prayer.

"You dare invoke the name of the false Emperor before me? I offered you power! I offered you a place at my side! Yet, you continue to defy me! Your suffering shall be infinite!"Much to the fallen warrior's surprise, the captain smiled instead of breaking down and begging for mercy. Rage gave way to confusion, which gave way to horror as a warning klaxon rang.

"In nomini Imperatoris," Matyas gasped out as the enraged servant of Chaos dashed his skull against the bulkhead.

* * *

Alight and venting atmosphere, the _Glorious_ was mercilessly pounded by salvo after salvo from the Chaos ships. Drop pods and shuttles crashed through its flanks, disgorging thousands of cultists and Traitor Astartes into its corridors. Its crew fought valiantly against the invaders, but they numbered too many. As the enemy crashed through checkpoint after checkpoint, the _Glorious_' officers set to burning code books and tactical maps, anything that could be used against the Imperium if captured. As torpedoes and lances carved huge holes in the proud battleship's exterior, the Aquila on its bow remained intact. Beaten and battered, the _Glorious_ refused to surrender.

When the proud Oberon-class battleship's Warp drive began powering up, the surrounding Chaos ships were temporarily thrown into confusion. Attempting a Warp jump was madness, especially with a ship as damaged as the _Glorious_. Confusion gave way to fear when it became clear that escape was the last thing on the enemy's mind. Having moved in close for the kill, the four Chaos cruisers that had gutted the Imperial battleship were the first to be destroyed when the _Glorious_' reactor containment catastrophically failed. The enemy ships that had clustered around the stricken battleship in hopes of stealing some of the glory backed away in a vain attempt to avoid being swallowed up by the newborn star.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Edge of the Terra System**

When the triangle representing the _Glorious_ and nearly two dozen of the red triangles clustered around it suddenly blinked out of existence, the bridge fell quiet for a brief moment. At least a million men and women, many of whom had been born in the ship's labyrinthine corridors and had known no other environment, were aboard the great battleship. The reactor explosion, visible even from the _Pendragon_'s current position, precluded any chance of survivors. The tactical display marked the deaths of enough men and women to staff an entire Black Knights battle group with a tiny _blip_.

"Overall hadron field density down to eighty-five percent," announced on the bridge officers.

The uneasy silence broken, the flurried comm chatter of a ship in battle restarted.

"Gun Battery C reports direct hits on an Infidel-class Raider! It's breaking up!"

"Report from Helios Leader: fifteen confirmed hits on a Devastation-class cruiser. Target is mobile, but appears unable to launch or recover attack craft."

"Report from Arbiter Two: attack run aborted due to heavy flak. Three confirmed hits on Slaughter-class cruiser. Current status of target unknown. Arbiter Leader shot down but bailed out and rescued by Arbiter Seven. Arbiter Squadron returning to repair and rearm."

"Status of primary hadron batteries?"

"Batteries One through Nine fully recharged! Ten through Eighteen seventy-five percent charged!"

Captain Lamont Maciver glanced at the tactical map, searching for the biggest target within reasonable striking distance.

"Warp jump detected! One signature identified!"

Lamont could have sworn he heard the _Pendragon_'s hull creak ominously as the helmsman slammed on the gravitric drive controls. Only the dreadnought's advanced inertial dampeners kept the crew from being flattened as the ship's bow abruptly swung upwards. Anyone in visual range would have been treated to the somewhat humorous sight of the kilometer-long warship roaring through space belly-first. The drives fired up again, just in time to accelerate the ship out of the path of a Retaliator-class Grand Cruiser dropping out of the Warp.

"Helm, bring us around! Fire the main batteries! Saturation FLEIJA bombardment, then jump!"

The dreadnought twisted around in space once again, a maneuver that would have torn any conventionally-propelled ship apart. The massive dorsal view of the grand cruiser swung into view just as the _Pendragon_'s primary hadron batteries rang out. Its mighty void shields down as it emerged from the Warp, the grand cruiser stood little chance as dozens of deep red lances punched straight through it. Its keel broken, the warship snapped in half under its own mass. The massive wave of FLEIJA warheads that followed destroyed both the grand cruiser and several dozen ships clustered around it just as the _Pendragon_ jumped away.

* * *

**Black Knights Cruiser _Hrimfaxi  
_Thirty Minutes Later**

"Overall hadron field density down to fifteen percent! Enemy ordnance starting to bleed through!"

"Port hadron fields collapsing!"

"Dammit!" Captain Rudolf de Sneijer slammed his fist into the bulkhead, "What about the other two emitter arrays?"

"Emitter Array One burned out! Array Three charging, ninety seconds to go!"

"Direct hit to starboard bow! Fire on deck three!"

"Engineering, what's the status on the skimmer drive?" Rudolf practically yelled into his comm unit.

"Primary and secondary power feeds damaged!" a static-laden voice answered, "We're rigging a bypass, but it'll take time!"

"How long?" the Black Knight had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"Maybe twenty minutes if we don't take any more hits like that last one!"

"I'm not going to have a ship in twenty minutes! You've got fifteen!" Rudolf shut off the line before the voice could object.

"What's the status on our primary batteries?"

"Batteries Four and Seven not responding! Batteries One through Three functioning at fifty percent capacity! Five, Six, and Seven through Ten fully charged and ready to fire!"

"Lock on to," Rudolf glanced at the tactical map, "the Executor-class. All batteries, focus fire on that grand cruiser! Uploading updated firing instructions!"

* * *

With a burst of power that dramatically shortened the remaining lifespan of its already-strained gravitric drives, the _Hrimfaxi_ closed the distance between it and its target. The small armada of Chaos ships surrounding it ceased firing in fear of hitting the grand cruiser. The capital ship's massive batteries loosed only a small handful of shots before the much smaller Black Knights cruiser slipped between its heavy turrets' firing arcs. Smaller point-defense batteries blazed away, many of the shells either failing to penetrate the cruiser's thick armor or outright bouncing off.

Mere dozens of meters away from colliding with the titanic warship, the _Hrimfaxi_ leveled out its dive and hugged the contours of the grand cruiser's hull. Every operational hadron battery on the _Hrimfaxi_'s belly ventral surface opened fire, smashing turrets and carving great gashes in the Executor's hull. The nimble cruiser rolled as it flew along the hull of its much larger opponent, giving its other batteries their shot at the grand cruiser. FLEIJA warheads impacted in the cruiser's wake, destroying the enemy titan from the inside.

Its target venting atmosphere and debris through gaping wounds in its flank, the _Hrimfaxi_ pulled sharply away. As the grand cruiser limped away to lick its wounds, its escort ships pounced on the Black Knights cruiser with renewed zeal. Though their target twisted and turned wildly, the Chaos warships compensated for their lack of accuracy with sheer volume of fire. Ordnance of all kinds slammed into the cruiser's replenished, but still weakened, forward hadron fields.

* * *

"Contact! At least a dozen distinct signatures directly above us! Identifying!"

"IFF signals decoded! They're," the sensor officer trailed off for a brief second, as if mentally reassessing the readouts in front of him, "Eldar."

* * *

**A/N:** Yep, our favorite space-elf Power Rangers show up. I mean that endearingly, Eldar fans, so if you could please put away your Mirror Swords and Shuriken Catapults...please?

Anyhow, another omake. Another info-dump on the Black Knights. To those who actually read these, I promise we'll eventually get back to the fun omakes, but considering the current plot arc, I'm just not sure how to make it funny. I've got one submitted to me that I'll bring out near the end of this arc, and I've got one lying around that would only work for the epilogue... Oh, and one more that'll only make sense when Abaddon...I've already said too much.

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Five: Militia Organization and Doctrine**

Though far from the largest, the Black Knights' military nonetheless remains one of the deadliest in the galaxy. Through extensive training and unlimited access to highly-advanced technology, they enjoy a considerable edge over most of their opponents. Through tenacity and courage, they have fought and won multiple conflicts against Orks, Dark Eldar, Tyranids, and Necrons, a distinction few others in the galaxy can truthfully lay claim to.

_Militia:_ The entirety of the Black Knights militia consists of roughly two hundred eighty million men and women organized into seven Theater Groups, each commanded by a Field Marshal:

Theater Group A: Field Marshal Gulzar Javed Barros  
Theater Group B: Field Marshal Nikola Liesel Schwer  
Theater Group C: Field Marshal Ngai Yen Nguyen  
Theater Group D: Field Marshal Sofija Valda Ozolins  
Theater Group E: Field Marshal Waheeda Ramlah Zaman  
Theater Group F: Field Marshal Thabo Mwenye Ihejirika  
Theater Group G: Field Marshal Galen Amias Way

The entire organizational hierarchy is as follows:

Formation - Composition - Leader  
Theater Group - Five Army Groups - Field Marshal  
Army Group - Five Militia Groups - Army General  
Militia Group - Five Corps - Colonel General  
Corps - Four Divisions - Lieutenant General  
Division - Two Brigades - Major General  
Brigade - Five Regiments - Brigadier General  
Regiment - Five Battalions - Colonel  
Battalion - Two Companies - Lieutenant Colonel  
Company - Five Platoons - Captain or Major  
Platoon - Two Squads - First or Second Lieutenant  
Squad - Five Fire and Maneuver Teams - Corporal or Sergeant  
Fire and Maneuver Team - Two Militiamen - senior militman

Under a policy of universal compulsory military service, every Black Knight undergoes military training at the age of eighteen, barring extraordinary circumstances. They are assigned a unit soon afterwards, though Black Knights currently employed in or training for a job deemed vital to the fleet's continued survival may occasionally obtain a deferment of their first deployment.

Outside of wartime, between one quarter and one third of all militiamen are actively serving at any given time. Upon reaching the age of one hundred seventy, a militiaman is "deactivated." Though no longer part of the regular duty rotation, a deactivated militiaman may still be called up to fight during wartime.

The training is rigorous, as every Black Knight must be worth ten of any other soldier on the battlefield. To this end, all militiamen not currently on active duty, including deactivated militiamen, are obligated to report for training exercises a minimum of two weekends out of every standard Earth month.

As they are usually monumentally outnumbered, Black Knights militia forces prefer to avoid direct confrontations with the enemy army. Instead, militia commanders prefer to bypass enemy fortifications entirely and launch surgical strikes behind enemy lines. Utilizing Sleipnir-class drop-shuttles and heavily supported by aerial and orbital forces, militia teams appear suddenly and wreak enormous havoc before vanishing just as quickly. Supply depots, communications hubs, and production centers are their preferred targets.

When forced onto the defensive, militia forces will subject the enemy commander to a brutal meat-grinder of a war. Rather than draw a defensive line, the militia prefers a multi-tiered approach. On more than one occasion, a Chaos warband or Dark Eldar raiding force broke through a Black Knights defensive line only to find another layer of defenses, the militiamen laying traps and defensive ambushes as they fell back.

_Space Fleet:_ Formally, the Black Knights space fleet falls under the Militia Division umbrella: its members pass through the same boot camps and a single agency oversees them. In practice, the fleet is an almost completely separate entity, sharing a command structure with the militia only at the very highest level: General Suzaku Kururugi himself. Every ship flying the Black Knights' colors, even "civilian" vessels such as Arcadia-class production ships and the vast majority of Valkyrie-class utility vessels in service, is listed on the space fleet's roster. This serves the dual purpose of streamlining administration and, in emergencies, removes most of the red tape in pressing a ship into military service.

The Black Knights fleet boasts an extremely fluid and flexible organizational hierarchy, with only the top rungs of the metaphorical ladder being of fixed composition. The warships of the Black Knights are organized into twenty-five enormous battle fleets, each under the overall leadership of a Fleet Admiral, of the following composition:

Twenty Yggdrasil-class Dreadnoughts  
One Hundred Twenty Trundholm-class Cruisers  
One Thousand, Two Hundred Valkyrie-class Utility Vessels  
Six Hundred Avalon-class DestroyersThree Thousand Camelot-class Frigates  
Four Thousand, Six Hundred Sleipnir-class Drop-Shuttles  
Seventy Thousand Excalibur-class Attack Craft

In addition to the battle fleets, the Black Knights' space fleet also consists of ten gigantic production fleets. Centered on a number of titanic Arcadia-class production ships, such a fleet's output can potentially dwarf that of a small Imperial Forge World or Agri World. While battle fleets obey a strict military-style hierarchy, production fleets tend to be governed by a council of ship captains and their representatives. As the only requirement of a production fleet is that it be able to provide for both itself and a quota of outside ships, exact composition tends to vary slightly. As new ships are constantly produced and old ones salvaged, keeping an exact count often proves a daunting task. However, the "average" production fleet boasts the following roster:

Fifty Arcadia-class Production Ships  
Forty-Three Thousand, Six Hundred Valkyrie-class Utility Vessels  
Ten Thousand, Eight Hundred Excalibur-class Attack Craft

Besides a small defensive contingent of Excalibur-class attack craft, production fleets possess no warships of their own. Production fleets often cluster around the _Ikaruga_ for mutual protection, and the task of protecting them from enemy attack falls primarily on the shoulders of the battle fleets.

The recruiting practices of the Black Knights fleet are largely identical to those of the militia. In fact, all recruits go through the same basic training and only express a preference for either the fleet or the militia just before more specialized training begins. Duty rotation practices are identical to those of the militia. Of the twenty-five battle fleets currently in service, anywhere from five to eight of them are in active service at any one time. The remainder lay in drydock undergoing repairs and refit, their crews discharged to their civilian jobs with the obligation to report for regular training exercises.

Though an entire Black Knights battle fleet can bring an awe-inspiring amount of firepower to bear, the number of such occasions can be counted on a Tau's fingers. Of these deployments, the vast majority have been against Necrons, though at least one Ork Waaagh! experienced the full fury of a Black Knights battle fleet prior to its near-total annihilation. The ability to operate in total secrecy is the Black Knights' greatest asset, and news of a sizable fleet steamrolling several star systems in rapid succession would quickly alert every major military in the galaxy. Only a threat on the scale of a major Tyranid Hive Fleet could merit the full deployment of several fleets.

The Black Knights military fleet maintains a fluid command structure, with battle groups and squadrons formed and disbanded as needed. A number of ship captains have been known to play favorites, requesting the same roster of vessels every time they are called to form a battle group. Far from censuring them, the Fleet Admirals often quietly encourage this practice, as such groups often yields results of a formation several times their size.

As Black Knights ships are often much smaller and more nimble than their opponents, as well as far less numerous, their fleet commanders heavily favor mobile hit-and-run tactics over direct slugging matches. The speed and precision of the Black Knights' skimmer drive allows for their ships to practice the somewhat unorthodox tactic of "tactical hops." Emerging from the Warp, a Black Knights vessel will empty its FLEIJA tubes into the opposition and—time permitting—several volleys from their main hadron batteries and re-enter the Warp before the enemy ships can obtain an effective firing solution. The vessel re-emerges moments later, its hadron fields refreshed and its FLEIJA tubes reloaded.

When called to defend a static target, the largest ships of a Black Knights task force will typically set up a defensive perimeter and designate a number of fallback positions. The smaller ships are sent out to conduct harassing strikes on the incoming enemy fleets, using tactical hops to continuously flank and harry the enemy ships. Attack craft and frigates weave in and out of the enemy formations, screening the larger ships from enemy fighters, harassing bombers, and striking and vulnerable points of the enemy formations.

* * *

**A/N:** You know, I think that, ironically, the Black Knights might have one of the larger remaining militaries in the galaxy by virtue of being able to replace their losses. Oh yeah, and they lack the whole "high casualties = loyalty" thing. Also, who had the bright idea of introducing an A**bb**a**d**on and an A**b**a**dd**on into the _40k_ canon? I've used the right one up until now, but it still gets _confusing_. Also, am I alone in thinking that Sabaton's "Carolus Rex" fits this story's incarnation of Lelouch?

Anyhow, some stuff to look forward to: more CC, some Kallen action, and _maybe_ some Spinzaku. Remember, in the Black Knights, authority does indeed equal asskicking. Oh, yeah, and Titans! Can't forget those! But those probably won't show up until _much_ later.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Strife and Heresy

**Disclaimer: **This _Warhammer 40k_ thing and that _Code Geass_ thing? Yeah...not mine.**  
**

Additionally, major props to fellow user Heir of Empires, the mastermind behind the Primarch subplots in this chapter and beyond! Keep a look out for his unbelievably badass cameo in the upcoming chapters!

**Chapter Fourteen: Strife and Heresy**

**Operations Room, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Somewhere in the Inner Terra System**

"Additional contacts on sensor! At least one hundred Eldar vessels confirmed, including two Void Stalker-class battleships!"

"At least one hundred fifty additional distinct signatures detected! Readings are consistent with Holofield interference!"

"Initial images are streaming in from our forward scouts!"

"Do we have information on their Craftworld of origin?"

"Not yet, but major markings are consistent with ships from either Altansar or Lugganath!"

"Weapons discharge detected from Eldar vessels! They've engaged the Chaos fleet!"

* * *

Humanity rose high during the Age of Technology, their dominance of the galaxy uncontested and the myriad alien races either forced to submit via treaty or wiped from existence. Their success meant that they had all the further to fall during the Age of Strife. Cut off from the food shipments that sustained it, untold billions starved on Terra as rioting and anarchy ruled the hives. The once-unified government fragmented and then dissolved entirely, replaced by fearsome warlords and their armies of techno-barbarians.

A period of war and famine followed as tribes conquered huge swaths of territory and one another in the eternal thirst for power and technology. The vast majority of Terra's inhabitants lived short, brutish lives, eking out miserable existences and hoping to never attract the techno-barbarians' attentions. Though many warlords dedicated their entire lives, none possessed the power or influence to realize their ultimate dream: the reunification of humanity.

As the first millennium of the Age of Strife came and went, a new warlord arose to the west. One of many and seemingly doomed to be absorbed or crushed by one of the larger, more established tribes, few paid him any attention. The warlords of Terra would soon come to regret their decision.

* * *

**Outskirts of Former Denver  
003.M28**

From his elevated command post, the warlord surveyed the army below him. Countless men and women, spurred on by the promise of glory and riches, eagerly awaited the order. Peering through his binocs, he snorted in disgust at the enemy army. The enemy had assembled a paltry line, only two men deep at points. The warriors seemed bulkier and better-armored than expected for such a minor tribe, but against such an innumerable horde, such would do them little good.

A great cheer rose throughout the gathered ranks as the warlord emerged from his command post. He drew his chainsword and thrust it into the air.

"We outnumber them a hundred thousand to one! A double share of plunder for the first one to reach their lines! Charge!"

* * *

Even as a hundred million men and women, all armed to the teeth and screaming battle cries, poured over the terrain towards them, the opposing army showed nary a nervous twitch. As the horde drew increasingly closer, they continued standing ramrod straight, their massive weapons shouldered. The figure at their head, smaller than any of them yet seemingly the calmest, surveyed the approaching tidal wave with his hand calmly at his hip.

"Ready arms!"

As stubber rounds riddled the ground in front of them, the warriors still moved as one. They shouldered their weapons and took careful aim. The screaming horde was now close enough that the mini-quakes of their feet hitting the ground could be felt. The gold-armored figure at the head drew his sword and thrust it into the air, its blade alight with psychic fire.

"Thunder Warriors, open fire!"

A thundering _boom_ echoed over the plain as the Thunder Army loosed their first volley. Cries of battle turned into cries of horror as bolt shells reduced the first ranks of the barbarian army into a shower of body parts and gore. Many died instantly, and those unfortunate enough to survive their wounds were swiftly trampled underfoot. The Thunder Warriors continued their disciplined volleys, each of their bolts blowing large holes in the enemy formation. Yet, every gap opened up was promptly filled by another dozen techno-barbarians.

The horde, though somewhat thinned, continued their charge out of sheer momentum. Lelouch raised his sword again, turning towards his assembled army.

"Thunder Warriors, glory or death awaits!" he bellowed, "Charge!"

The revving of a thousand chainswords filled the air as the massive proto-Astartes charged forward, the ground itself shaking from their thundering footsteps. Lelouch loosed a massive wave of fire, incinerating hundreds and setting many more ablaze. His victims screamed in agony, beating at their clothing until their hands caught fire. The barbarians' morale broke as the first Thunder Warriors crashed into their ranks, crushing hundreds underfoot and smashing many more aside before their chainswords were even brought to bear.

The barbarians clawed over one another, trying to reach illusionary safety. Those in the rear, the news of the horrors at the front finally reaching them, simply turned around and fled. With a contemptuous sneer, Lelouch slashed his sword into the air. A line of fire leapt up from the ground, incinerating many of the fleeing soldiers and trapping the rest. Driven insane with fear, many leapt through the flames anyway, only to be incinerated by the sheer psychic might.

Wading through the blood and gore that now covered the ground, the Thunder Army continued its relentless advance.

* * *

**Outskirts of Former Denver  
Three Hours Later**

"Who…are you?" the warlord gasped out.

For such a lanky figure, the enemy general's physical strength was nothing short of titanic. With a single hand, he lifted the barbarian warlord—power armor and all—into the air and slammed him into the wall. The man's eyes bugged out as the vise around his throat tightened, cutting off oxygen to his lungs. His legs flailed ineffectually as his hands grasped Lelouch's in a futile attempt to break the man's iron grip. Only when the warlord seemed on the verge of suffocation did he finally let go. The much larger man fell to the ground and scrambled to all fours, gasping desperately for air.

"Go." the warlord looked at Lelouch in bewilderment, "You heard me! Go! Run away! Go back to your masters and tell them what happened here today! Tell them that the Emperor of Mankind has shattered your army, and that they're next!"

The warlord stumbled to his feet and ran out of the bunker, tripping over the bodies and congealed blood of his slain bodyguards as he did so.

* * *

**Argyre Planatia, Mars  
086.M28**

The dust kicked up from the _Damocles_' landing had yet to fully settle down when Lelouch lowered the ship's boarding ramp. To say he had emerged from the Unification Wars unchanged would have been a lie. Millennia of brutal combat, both on the battlefield and in the boardroom, had hardened him. His lanky frame had given way to well-toned muscle, and scars marred his once-effeminate looks. A dangerous, ruthless glint now permanently inhabited his violet eyes.

The footfalls of a dozen Custodians shook the ramp as Lelouch strode down, still retaining a degree of regality in his mannerisms despite everything. The enormous gene-modded soldiers kicked up a sizable dust cloud as their feet sank into the loose Martian soil. As the last warrior's feet left the ramp, the two ranks split apart and formed a path for Lelouch to walk through.

The whirring of servo-motors filled Lelouch's ears as the bipedal walkers before him stared him down. Their weapon-laden arms twitched, causing all of his bodyguards to begin reaching for their weapons before Lelouch waved them back. Without a hint of fear or hesitation, the Emperor of Mankind approached the head Knight and placed a hand on its knee servo. A few whispered words later, he stepped back and the joint's tortured screeching stopped.

Without missing a beat, all the Knights dropped onto one knee in fealty before the Master of Mankind.

* * *

**Olympus Mons, Mars  
088.M28**

Though the Fabricator-General of Mars and his subordinates, all more machine than man slightly unnerved Lelouch, he had to admit that the Tech-Priesthood knew how to put on an impressive display.

Formations of aircraft, the latest and most advanced models the Mechanicum's forges produced, crisscrossed the skies above. Slab-sided warships hovered over the procession, their enormous size making them appear close enough to touch while actually hanging in low orbit. As Lelouch and his entourage of Custodians disembarked from the _Damocles_, they were greeted with the sight of thousands of Skitarii warriors, their mechanical components polished until they shone, standing in neat rows and forming a road to the site. The Skitarii were clustered around the feet of enormous Titans, their bright colors forming a magnificent contrast with the rust-red of Olympus Mons. Crude imitations of the Castigator types he had seen during the Age of Technology, but impressive nonetheless. Thousands of lower-ranked adepts and Tech-Priests clustered on the outside of the barrier, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Emperor.

Clad in a specially-made suit of Thunder Armor, its polished brass exterior indicating its use as a ceremonial weapon rather than one of war, Lelouch purposefully strode up to the table at the road's end. His Custodians, easily several heads taller than a mortal man and clad in magnificent gold and crimson armor, made for an intimidating backdrop. The Fabricator-General of Mars, flanked by the Fabricator-Locum and their respective retinues, looked unimpressed.

On the table before them, painstakingly transcribed onto the finest paper by the Imperium's most talented scribes, was the Treaty of Olympus. An immense document years in the making, its purpose was nonetheless purely ceremonial. The terms and policies outlined were finalized weeks ago in a boardroom, and the current spectacle served as little more than a ceremony to highlight the treaty's ratification. In exchange for continued non-interference in their internal affairs, the Mechanicum of Mars was obligated to provide the Imperium with the advanced technologies manufactured at their Forge Worlds. The years-long negotiations had proven brutal, drawing in hundreds of diplomats on both sides and nearly falling apart on several occasions, especially when the issue of the Vaults of Moravec was bought up.

"My lord, the honor should be yours," the Fabricator-General diplomatically offered the pen to Lelouch.

Lelouch accepted the pen with whatever semblance of a grateful smile he could muster and signed the treaty in great, looping letters.

* * *

**The Warp  
017.M51**

CC's golden eyes slowly opened, her vision no longer even spinning as she resurfaced. The soul shards, now numbering in the thousands, swirled around her like a great psychic aura. Daemons no longer dared approach her, and even the greatest hordes respectfully parted before her. Euphemia calmly walked beside her, not even the most terrifying daemonic visages causing her to bat an eyebrow. Her staff, its head aglow with psychic might, deterred even the most powerful and terrible of greater daemons.

"What do you know of the Primarchs?" Euphemia suddenly ventured.

"Admittedly not much," CC glanced over at Euphemia, eyebrow quirked, "Most of what we do know comes from communications we intercepted back in the thirty-first millennium, and accounts were fragmentary at best."

"Then I suppose you will find the next soul shards interesting," Euphemia stated matter-of-factly, "Though there is one thing you should probably know…"

Euphemia glanced at her companion and trailed off as CC fell into an all-too-familiar trance. The Guardian huffed indignantly before sitting down next to the green-haired immortal.

"Oh well," Euphemia shrugged, "She'll figure it out soon enough."

* * *

**?  
065.M29**

"Power line's severed on this one, too, my lord."

Lelouch let out an uncharacteristic growl of frustration, slamming his fist into the pod door hard enough to dent the metal. The Custodians in the lab wisely backed down as the any and all small, unsecured objects began floating ominously off the ground. A brief wind flowed through the lab chamber before Lelouch slumped down, closing his eyes and taking deep calming breaths.

Opening his eyes again, Lelouch glanced at the chamber before him. From end-to-end, it stretched nearly half a kilometer in length. Great refrigerated pods, each large enough to house a full-grown man, were stacked up to the ceiling and along the entire length of the room. When the Black Knights required a new human paradigm, their scientists had filled the current chamber and dozens more like it with untold millions of genetic samples. Though the lab itself was not as grand as the one currently under construction under the surface of Luna, it was undoubtedly more advanced.

What little data that survived the Age of Technology's violent end was used by Lelouch and his scientists in creating the Thunder Army and the Legio Custodes. Only fragments of the research and equipment remained when the lab was re-opened, and most was lost with the rise of the Yndonesic Bloc. As innumerable hordes overran the surface, Lelouch and his subordinates were forced to evacuate what they could and destroy the entrance. Even thousands of meters of rock and soil above it failed to completely protect it from the apocalyptic weapons and detestable sorceries unleashed throughout the Unification Wars.

The days of sustained atomic and lance bombardment that preceded the Thunder Army's assault on Cardinal Tang's Himalayan fortifications had heavily damaged most of the facility. The resulting earthquakes and aftershocks cut off power to several gene vaults and buried others beneath millions of tons of rubble, utterly destroying the samples stored within. Many of the labs and testing chambers were cut off, their access corridors caved-in during the orbital bombardment and the brutal ground assault that followed. As the Thunder Army's vise grew tighter, the Eternarch grew increasingly desperate, eventually turning to dark sorceries to stave the oncoming tide. The energies leaking through the weakened veil of reality had corrupted many of the surviving chambers, forcing their purgation with cleansing flame.

"My lord! This one still has power!"

Lelouch crossed the length of the gene vault in a heartbeat, nearly bowling the scientist over as he examined the pod. The pod's systems were failing, but what mattered was that part of it remained operational. Without waiting for the proper equipment to arrive, he carefully disengaged the hermetic seals and opened the pod, sheathing himself with psychic energy for protection from the subzero cryonic gasses. Dozens of turntables, each containing a dozen genetic samples, stacked atop each other in three columns appeared through the mists.

A Custodian, a portable cryogenic storage unit in his hands, and a dozen scientists approached the pod. After hurriedly connecting the unit to a backup cooling unit, the scientists began methodically removing the turntables one by one in search of viable gamete samples. Lelouch insisted on placing the usable samples into the storage unit himself. His eyes scanned the latest of the small but steadily-growing collection of viable gametes. He nearly dropped the precious vial in shock when he noted the donor.

He was never going to hear the end of it, but considering the circumstances, it could have been much worse.

"That's the last them, my lord," the Custodian reported as he re-sealed the portable storage unit.

"How many?"

"Eighteen, my lord."

"Dammit," Lelouch's fist pounded the ground, "Are there any vaults that remain unopened?"

"There's one in Section Five," one of the scientists chimed in, "my lord."

"But my lord," another scientists protested, "the samples in Section Five are…"

"I know what's in Section Five!" Lelouch interrupted, "However, we need at least two more samples! We'll work around whatever complications arise!"

* * *

**Beneath the Surface of Luna  
073.M29**

The Master of Mankind sank to his knees as he beheld the sad sight before him. The enormous chamber, once the greatest concentration of scientific equipment and computing power in the fledgling Imperium, was an utter wreck. The value in destroyed equipment alone could build and outfit a light cruiser, but that was far from the greatest loss. The twenty enormous capsules, each containing one of his Primarchs, once housed within were gone. He could feel the Warp energies that permeated the chamber, and they tasted disgustingly of smugness and triumph.

"My lord…" one of the scientists cautiously approached him.

"Summon your staff," Lelouch suddenly ordered.

"My lord?"

"We have lost much, but it is not the end. You have retained copies of the data, did you not?

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Then we shall begin anew. When the day comes that my sons return to me, their followers shall be legion."

* * *

**The Warp  
017.M51**

A look of surprise immediately appeared on CC's face as soon as she regained control of her facial muscles. Had any of her subordinates, or even any of her fellow immortals, seen her at that moment, they would claim to have witnessed a sign of another coming apocalypse. CC, who never showed anything other than complete apathy even when facing down a greater daemon, showing no less than three visible emotions within the span of so many days? Euphemia merely nodded knowingly.

"I take it you found out?"

"Yes," CC nodded numbly.

"You'll have to tell…"

"I know," CC cut her off.

"Are you sure…"

"I think I sense another soul fragment," CC interrupted, her usual mask of cool indifference now firmly back in place.

* * *

**Olympus Mons, Mars  
099.M29**

The sight of the Imperium's mighty war machine dwarfed even the spectacle surrounding the signing of the Treaty of Olympus Mons over a century ago. The fires of Mars' forges burned brightly as they undertook the monumental task of equipping the Emperor's army. Thousands upon thousands of warships, some stretching several kilometers in length, hung in orbit over the rust-red planet and patrolled the star system. Gathered in numbers unheard-of until the Ullanor Crusade decades later, members of the mighty Legiones Astartes and Collegia Titanica stood arrayed in neat formations across the plains surrounding the mountain, awaiting transport to the warships above. Remembrancers would later claim that the footfalls of the Old Hundred, remnants of the Emperor's army during the Age of Strife re-forged into the nucleus of the Imperial Army, shook the entire planet.

Lelouch observed the grand scene from above, in an observation room of a forge carved right into the rock of Olympus Mons. The door behind him slid open and a slim, hunched-over figure silently stepped through. The Emperor had detected the second man's presence before he even approached the door.

"Malcador," Lelouch turned around to face his advisor, "I trust everything is well?"

"Very, my lord," Malcador the Sigillite replied with a calmness few could muster when faced with the Emperor of Mankind, "Preparations for departure are actually ahead of schedule. At this rate, the crusade fleets will be ready to leave the system within the next seven days."

"Excellent," Lelouch noticed the other man's expression, "I take it there is more news?"

"Fabricator-General Kelbor-Hal sends his apologies, my lord. Some miners unearthed a previously-unknown vault several days ago. He has gone to oversee the excavation operation and will not be able to attend the launching of the Great Crusade."

"Regrettable, but understandable."

"He has, however, sent a gift to commemorate the occasion."

Nearly a dozen Tech-Priests, escorted by several Custodians, entered the room with a cargo servitor trailing slightly behind. Lelouch's eyes were instantly drawn to the servitor's burden: a giant suit of armor the color of polished brass. It reminded him of a cross between the Dreadnoughts the Mechanicum had recently started manufacturing and Astartes power armor. Imperial Aquilae, each painstakingly cast and hammered into shape by a master craftsman, adorned every surface. One even stood on a pedestal behind where his head would go. An enormous red gem was centered on the chest plate, and two smaller ones were embedded into the forearm guards. An enormous clawed hand that vaguely reminded him of the Guren's took the place of the left gauntlet. Resting beside it was a magnificent blade with three crimson gems embedded in the hilt.

"The formal name for it is 'Tactical Dreadnought Armor,' but the Legiones Astartes have taken to calling it 'Terminator Armor.' The Fabricator-General commissioned the finest master craftsmen from all over Mars to build you this custom suit, my lord, and the sword comes from his personal forge."

Lelouch carefully picked up the sword, marveling at how light it felt in his hand. He engulfed the blade in flames with a thought and instantly extinguished them with another.

* * *

**Chaos Battle Barge _Vengeful Spirit  
_014.M31**

Lelouch doubled over and coughed up blood as another crushing blow, easily enough to utterly annihilate any lesser man dozens of times over, broke the vast majority of the bone plates making up his ribcage. Reinforcing his shattered body with psychic power, the battered and bloody Emperor of Mankind slowly stood up, only to be knocked into the air by a punishing roundhouse kick. The Traitor Astartes gathered on the bridge parted to let him crash into the bulkhead, leaving an enormous dent in the metal and unleashing a shockwave that bowled several nearby Space Marines over. Though blurred vision, Lelouch watched as Horus laughed maniacally, stepping on the body of Sanguinius with the same regard one would give to trash as he approached the Emperor's fallen form.

"Come to your senses, Horus, please…you're sick! I can help you!" Lelouch begged.

The fallen Primarch laughed, gripping Lelouch around his throat with enough force to crush his windpipe. He slowly lifted the Emperor, now gasping for breath, to his eye level.

"Sick?" Horus scoffed, "I've never felt better in my life!"

With a sickening _squelch_ and a blood-curdling scream, Horus ripped out Lelouch's left eye. With strength that reminded the Master of Mankind precisely where his son's genes had come from, Horus threw the Emperor across the room. A sickening _crack_ and roars of triumph from the fallen Astartes filled the room as Lelouch collided with the bulkhead.

Choking on his own blood, Lelouch used his sword as a crutch to stand up. Horus stopped momentarily, causing the Emperor to hope against all reason that his son had come to his senses. Instead, the Arch-Traitor snapped his fingers. Lelouch screamed in pain as his hair was set ablaze. The screams only intensified when Horus picked up the Emperor's fallen form and broke his spine over his knee. With a wet _pop_, the Warmaster tore Lelouch's arm from its socket before throwing him to the ground.

As he stood over the beaten Emperor, he raised his arms in the air, puffed out his chest, and roared in triumph. His followers joined him in celebration as he raised one of his massive claws.

"No!"

The traitor Astartes surrounding the pair suddenly turned towards the voice. Horus paused in the killing blow as a lasbolt glanced off his armor. Lelouch watched in horror as a lone Imperial Army soldier dove between him and Horus. Defiance in his eyes, the soldier stood up and shouldered his lasrifle. The cherry-red bolts continued to bounce off the Warmaster's armor.

"No," Lelouch tried to gasp out through his ruined larynx, "Get away. You can't take him…"

Horus laughed and flayed the man with a single thought before looking down to the Emperor once again.

"His name was Ollanius Pius," Horus mocked, "Yet another in the long list of people you've failed. You who have spent your entire life claiming there were no gods. In reality, you were scared of them. Scared of what they could do."

Lelouch gurgled in response, suffocating on his own blood.

"They've told me everything," Horus continued, "All throughout your life, you've failed in protecting anyone dear to you. What about Shirley Fenette? You couldn't protect her, could you? Oh, and little Euphemia! You used her to further your own goals and then shot her through the heart! The greatest irony of all!"

Cruel laughter echoed throughout the chamber. Anger and despair overwhelmed Lelouch. As much as he tried to deny it, he had just seen irrefutably how far his son had fallen. His eyes alight with psychic fire, Lelouch slowly stood up.

"How about your mother? Shot to death right in front of you! Not only that, you got yourself and your sister banished trying to avenge her! Years later, what do you find out? She planned the whole thing! In the end, she never cared for…" Horus trailed off as he watched Lelouch painfully stand up.

"Horus," Lelouch gasped out with tears streaming from his eyes, "There are some lines you should never cross. I wanted to save you, I really did, but from this moment forth, you are no longer my son!"

As the Arch-Traitor watched in horror, psychic flame gathered around the Emperor's usable hand. With a fearsome roar that would send Chaos Gods running in fear, Lelouch leapt towards his fallen son. As the mighty lance, the physical manifestation of all of his father's psychic power, raced towards Horus, the Ruinous Powers abandoned him.

"Father?" Horus returned to sanity as the lance utterly annihilated his being, "What have I done?"

* * *

**The Warp  
017.M51**

CC had not cried in millennia, never since the day of the exodus. As she returned to consciousness, she wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. She had read reports from various battlefronts during the Horus Heresy, including communications from Terra, but to actually stand there on the _Vengeful Spirit_ in those final moments…

"He was interred into the Golden Throne hours later. You know what followed: twenty thousand years of pain and torment to keep the remnants of humanity alive. Twenty thousand years of watching his grand vision become a twisted and perverted version of itself. Deep down inside, part of him felt that this was the penance he had long sought."

CC slowly stood up. The newly-acquired soul shard circled her face, wiping away the tears.

"Yet, despite all that happened, the events on the _Vengeful Spirit_ were still probably the best possible outcome considering the circums-"

A loud _crack_ echoed through the Warp, annihilating scores of lesser daemons and sending even greater daemons running in terror. Euphemia recoiled from the blow.

"Shut up," CC snarled, "How can you say that? In what kind of twisted world is twenty thousand years of living hell the _best possible outcome_?"

Euphemia's cheek stung from the blow, less from the pain it inflicted and more from the emotions behind it.

"I'll admit that I overstepped my bounds there," Euphemia conceded before quickly changing the subject, "That was the last of the soul shards. It's time we return to the Materium."

With a quick downward slash of her staff, the Guardian opened a rift out of the Warp and stepped through. CC followed moments later, the portal sealing itself behind her.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's a wrap for this chapter! Two omakes today! One boring info-dump one (there's only one or two more of these, I promise), and a fun one! Feel free to skip straight to the fun one! I won't hold it against you, and I probably wouldn't know otherwise unless you decided to inform me for some reason!

**Omake #1: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Six: Special Forces Organization and Doctrine**

Though their military is formidable, the Black Knights often prefer to settle most matters through small covert operations. Unlike the militiamen that form the bulk of the Black Knights Military Army, members of the Special Forces Division are full-time soldiers.

_Orbital Planetary Assault Wing:_ "Orbital Planetary Assault Wing" is the name of both the organization and the basic unit of its organizational hierarchy. Though larger units do exist, their purpose is almost purely administrative. There are currently four hundred OPAWs in service, each with the following composition:

Formation - Composition - Leader  
Orbital Planetary Assault Wing - Ten Squads - Captain or Major  
Squad - Three Fire Teams - Lieutenant  
Fire Team - Two Fire and Maneuver Teams - Corporal or Sergeant  
Fire and Maneuver Team - Two Troopers - senior trooper

At any given time, ten OPAWs are designated "activated, elevated readiness." Units so labeled are ready to deploy within four hours. Another thirty, designated "activated, increased readiness," can deploy within ten. Sixty additional OPAWs are considered "activated" and are ready for drop within sixteen hours. The remaining three hundred OPAWs are held in reserve and ready for combat in anywhere from twenty to forty-eight hours.

While their militia counterparts are loath to assault an enemy force head-on or a fortification directly, OPAW units rarely do anything else. Dropped directly from orbit, OPAW troopers default to quick, violent shock attacks to disorient their foes and keep them off-balance. While a militia unit would opt to hit the supply vehicles behind an enemy tank column, an OPAW unit would jump in the fray and destroy the tanks with their FLEIJA launchers. Due to the extreme odds they often face, the OPAW suffers significantly higher casualty rates than the Militia Division despite being a tiny fraction of the latter's size.

A small number of select troopers are designated "Raider" and wear an additional stripe on their uniform to indicate this. The opportunity to attend Raider School is considered one of the greatest honors an OPAW trooper can receive, and even being recommended for it can do wonders for a trooper's career. Attendees of Raider School are hand-picked and trained by General Kallen Kozuki herself. Many wash out, but those who graduate become part of the Black Knights' most elite fighting force: the OPAW Raiders.

Raiders are entrusted with some of the most dangerous missions: eliminating Necron Overlords and Phaerons, direct assaults on the lairs of Tyranid Norn-Queens, even assassinating Dark Eldar Archons. Casualty rates in excess of fifty percent are not unusual, and many operations have cost entire Raider squads. Theoretically, every OPAW should have one Raider squad assigned to it. In practice, there is one Raider squad for every four or five OPAWs. Due in no small part to the missions they undertake, the Raiders have captured the imaginations of the Black Knights and are the subject of many an entertainment piece.

_Psychic Special Warfare Department:_ Though arranged into operational cells, the Psychic Special Warfare Department does not observe any formal command hierarchy. A less-experienced operative will generally defer to a more-experienced one, but they are ultimately accountable to nobody but Director CC herself. It is estimated that there are approximately two thousand Psychic Special Warfare operatives scattered across hundreds of cells. Cell assignments are by no means set in stone, and operatives are regularly shuffled between cells as needed.

A tiny fraction of Black Knights are born with psychic abilities significantly greater than those of their brethren. The vast majority are discovered before birth, though some remain undetected until later in life. CC confirms every potential operative in person, and those too young for boot camp have their powers temporarily sealed away for their own safety. Operatives are taken to a special training facility instead of boot camp.

Training for a Psychic Special Warfare operative takes place under the direct tutelage of CC and is both physically and mentally rigorous. Not only must an operative utilize their psychic abilities while shielding their own minds, but they must also be able to fight with conventional weaponry if needed. Operatives are trained to psychically bend the very fabric of reality, forcing through the resulting weak spot into the Warp and emerging some distance away. This technique—colloquially known as "hopping"—is, despite numerous precautions, the leading cause of training fatalities. Upon entering the Warp, they become visible to the creatures within, and many an unfortunate trainee over the millennia has become a snack for a passing Warp entity.

The vast majority of the Psychic Special Warfare Department's operations are carried out in conjunction with militia or OPAW units, its operatives supporting their fellow Black Knights with fearsome psychic attacks. On rare occasions, the Department has conducted solo operations, deploying operatives either by themselves or in small groups ranging in size from two operatives to an entire cell. Even more rarely, several cells may pool their personnel for a particularly large operation.

On the battlefield, even Raiders admit to being a little intimidated by Psychic Special Warfare operatives. Clad in highly-modified Cherub Knightmares, they are a force to be reckoned with. From the rear lines, they can ravage enemy formations with psychic lightning and fire. In close combat, they hop amidst the enemy and slice them to ribbons with psychically-charged monomolecular blades. By throwing down localized time dilatation fields as they exit the Warp, operatives can slay multiple opponents within what the enemy perceives as mere heartbeats.

* * *

**Omake #2: Another Familiar Face**

The Imperial and Eldar fleets were thrown into high alert as a fleet of Dark Eldar warships appeared on their sensors and approached from high speed.

"Lower your weapons! We mean no harm!" the flagship announced on an open channel.

The combined fleets held their fire, but kept their guns pointed at the approaching Dark Eldar ships nonetheless. Their counterparts approached with their weapons powered down, dispelling some tension amongst the human and Eldar crews alike.

"The Supreme Archon, Mistress of Commorragh, sends her regards and has ordered that all Kabals immediately deploy for the defense of Terra!"

It took Nunnally, Suzaku, and Kallen broadcasting straight from the Golden Throne to break the stupefied silence.

"I can't say I'm not grateful," Nunnally ventured, "But wasn't your ruler male the last time we checked?"

The Dark Eldar captain wove an unbelievable tale. A stranger, neither Dark Eldar nor Half-Born, had appeared one day at the Port of Lost Souls. With naught but a sheet of paper folded over itself several times, she kept opportunistic Dark Eldar slavers at bay while simultaneously establishing a reputation throughout Commorragh. Hosting one of her parties, considered hedonistic even by Dark Eldar standards, soon became a status symbol amongst the elite. Word of the stranger and her exploits eventually reached Asdrubael Vect. Outbidding all others, he invited her to his palace and wrote her a blank check to throw the grandest and most decadent party her imagination could conceive.

"Few accounts of the party remain, and even fewer survivors," the Dark Eldar captain concluded, "Asdrubael Vect himself was found dead the next day with a Voidraven engine, seven magazines of Astartes bolter shells, three Banshee Masks from three different Craftworlds, a dozen Commissar caps, two Warscythes, a bandolier of Photon Grenades, seventeen thousand unique flavors of the confection known as 'cotton candy,' and a feathered cap scattered on the floor around him. The stranger was found sitting on the throne of the Kabal of the Black Heart, and nobody could muster the courage to challenge her claim."

"From her latest orders, I take it that this stranger had ties with us?" Nunnally asked, intrigued.

"She claims to have met you before. About this," the Dark Eldar captain raised his hand about one and a half meters off the ground, "tall. Blonde. Constantly followed around by some lovesick blue-haired idiot…"

A _crash_ echoed through the communications channel as all three present Black Knights leaders face-faulted.

* * *

**A/N:** See you all next time!


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Desperate Times

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Warhammer 40k_ or _Code Geass_.**  
**

**Chapter Fifteen: Desperate Times**

**Eldar Battleship _Sword of Asuryan  
_Edge of the Terra System**

"Autarch, the mon-keigh fleets approach maximum effective firing range. All gunnery crews report armed and ready."

"Identification signals decoded," another Eldar announced, "Numerous Imperial and Chaos ships identified, along with a significant number of unknowns."

"Explain," the Autarch demanded.

"Their identification codes do not follow any known format. Additionally, the drive and energy signatures do not match anything on record. However, preliminary sensor scans indicate they are fighting alongside the Imperial ships."

"They must be the 'Black Knights' the Crystal Seers mentioned, then," the Autarch whispered to himself before reverting to a more audible voice, "Target only the Chaos warships, but keep tracking the unknowns."

"Weapons locked on. Chaos vessels nearing optimal firing distance."

"Lost contact with forward scout vessel!"

The bridge fell silent for a moment, mourning the souls lost to She Who Thirsts.

"The crew managed to transmit footage right before they disappeared off sensors," a bridge officer reported after an appropriate length of time passed.

The Autarch nodded at his subordinate's unspoken question. The communications officer's fingers danced over his console, projecting the hard-won footage onto the bridge's main display.

As he watched the unfolding scene with great interest, the Autarch found himself silently reciting fragments of the Seers' prophecies. _Small in number and in bulk_, he thought as he witnessed a long and sleek but tiny ship dive towards the monolithic Chaos warship before it. _Spears of blood_ and _all-consuming spheres_ came to mind as the unidentified warship began its attack. Crimson lances punched through the Chaos ship's armor, followed by torpedoes that emitted a jade shockwave before detonating into an expanding violet sphere, leaving behind gaping holes in the ship's hull. The recording went blank soon afterwards, apparently the point where a stray shot found the tiny scout vessel.

"Autarch," a gunnery officer nervously interrupted, "Chaos vessels within optimum firing range."

"Open fire! _Mael dannan!_"

* * *

**Command Bridge  
Black Knights Cruiser _Hrimfaxi_**

The _Hrimfaxi_ shook as a lance punched through its nearly-depleted hadron fields and pierced its stern. Several crewmembers were thrown out of their seats and warning lights blinked crazily.

"Engines Two and Four damaged! Compensating!"

"That last hit just fried the skimmer drive!"

"Fires on Decks One through Six!"

"No response from engineering! At least one hundred fifty-seven casualties reported so far!"

Despite even a single direct hit spelling doom for the _Hrimfaxi_ in its current state, Rudolf ordered it to charge the Chaos warships. His gamble paid off, the Chaos gunners driven to a state of panic and disarray by the sight of the charging cruiser. Many shots went wide, but energy from near-misses still exacted their toll. With its inertial dampeners damaged, the cruiser and its crew felt every nearby detonation. The _Hrimfaxi_'s luck finally ran out when a plasma torpedo, by itself a respectable portion of the ship's length, grazed past its hull and detonated.

"Hadron field down! Emitter Array Three not responding!"

"Decks Seven through Twelve are open to space! Forty-three casualties confirmed so far!"

"What's the status of Array Two?"

"The explosion fused several primary power conduits! It's functioning at fifty percent capacity!"

* * *

**Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Juggernaut Three  
Edge of the Terra System**

Juggernaut Three barely twisted away in time as an anti-starfighter missile tore the wing off of a neighboring Excalibur. The mortally-wounded attack craft spun crazily out of control as another Chaos fighter attacked it head-on. A final mental twitch from the pilot before the lascannon shots disintegrated him sent the craft smashing into the flank of a Chaos escort.

"Juggernaut Leader just bought it!"

Her squadron commander's sacrifice hadn't destroyed the enemy warship, but it did open up a gaping hole in its armor. As the remaining Juggernaut pilots exacted vengeance for their fallen leader, Juggernaut Three slammed open the throttle, screaming towards the wounded escort before its crew could react. Aiming for the gaping wound, she fired off the last of her anti-ship FLEIJA warheads and let loose with her hadron machine guns, pulling away only at the very last moment. The resulting explosions tore the warship in two and sent the debris flying into neighboring ships.

"The bastards are going for the _Hrimfaxi_!"

"Attention, all Juggernaught pilots. As the most senior officer present," Juggernaut Three carefully avoided using the term 'remaining,' "I am taking command of Juggernaut Squadron. All remaining units form up and prepare for attack!"

Whether through some forgotten technology or through Warp sorcery, the remaining Chaos attack craft sensed the _Hrimfaxi_'s predicament. As the enemy moved in for the kill, the remnants of the Juggernaut Squadron, somehow the most intact portion of the cruiser's badly-mauled Excalibur contingent, moved to defend their mothership. Already decelerating for their attack run, the first wave of Doomfire bombers stood little chance and were blown apart by a furious barrage of hadron bolts.

"Here come the escorts! Scatter!"

The five remaining pilots of Juggernaut Squadron, less than half its original number, broke away with a series of impressive maneuvers as the Swiftdeath fighters began their attack run. Lasbolts, missiles, and the fighters themselves passed through the recently-vacated space. In the crucial moments the enemy pilots spent re-acquiring their targets, the Juggernaut Squadron attacked.

"Warning: hadron field density at twenty-five percent."

Juggernaut Three dismissed the message with a thought as another lascannon bolt splashed against her fields. At such low densities, some energy from the blast leaked through, scorching some of the paint where it hit. As Juggernaut Three's craft screamed head-on towards the Swiftdeath, the enemy pilot decided to call her bluff and accelerated towards her. Lining up the reticule on her display, Juggernaut Three let loose a lengthy burst of hadron bolts. To the enemy pilot's credit, he did try to evade. The belated maneuvers did little good, serving only to expose a greater cross-section to the deadly crimson spears. Juggernaut Three pulled away as the Swiftdeath's engine containment failed.

"Second wave of bombers incoming!"

"Juggernaut Seven, inter-," the voice disappeared in a burst of static, and Juggernaut Seven's lifesigns went dark.

"They've launched missiles!"

The gunners aboard the _Hrimfaxi_ put up a furious barrage, shooting down the wave of armor-piercing missiles a significant distance from the cruiser's hull.

"Three Chaos fighters on your six!"

"Warning: rear hadron fields depleted."

The attack craft shook as a lascannon blast struck it full-force. Juggernaut Three slammed open the throttle and sent her Excalibur into a steep dive. Another vibration told her that the Chaos pilots had emulated her maneuver. She closed the throttle slightly just as Juggernaut Nine roared past her, their craft coming within centimeters of one another. A very satisfying display of pyrotechnics and twisted metal ensued as both pilots' respective pursuers collided.

"Second wave of missiles launched!"

"Juggernaut Eleven, intercepting!"

Juggernauts Three and Nine pulled up alongside Juggernaut Eleven as he accelerated towards the missiles. When a squadron of Chaos fighters pursued, the two escorts flipped over and flew backwards. The withering hail of hadron fire shredded one of the Swiftdeaths and forced the others to abort their attack run. As Juggernaut Eleven opened fire on the armor-piercing missiles, Juggernauts Three and Nine broke off and made a beeline for the bombers.

"Bomber formation spotted! Begin attack run!"

The two Excaliburs roared off in opposite directions as the bombers' escorts move to defend their charges. Simultaneous Split-S maneuvers put both pilots on collision courses, and the Chaos pilots banked away to avoid the predicted disaster. Juggernaut Three nudged her craft upwards at the last moment, her craft's dorsal surface coming within millimeters of scraping Juggernaut Nine's. By the time the Swiftdeath pilots managed to turn around and begin accelerating again, several bombers were already reduced to flaming hulks.

"Another formation closing in!"

Juggernaut Three's heart sank as she visually confirmed the new Chaos formation. She could pick out a dozen bombers and at least three times that number of fighters, and more were just behind them. The withering hail of lasbolt fire disintegrated Juggernaut Eleven's attack craft before the enemy fighters even broke formation. Juggernaut Nine's lifesigns went dark moments later as Swiftdeaths swarmed his fighter.

"The _Hrimfaxi_'s hit!"

Through the swarm of enemy attack craft, Juggernaut Three saw the cruiser slowly spin away, venting atmosphere and glowing from numerous fires. Perhaps some of the crew managed to survive, but the _Hrimfaxi_ was out of the fight.

"Juggernaut Six, I'm hit! Going down!"

The lifesign flickered for a few moments before disappearing.

"Warning: primary power conduit severed. Gravitric drive not responding."

Juggernaut Three detached her Knightmare moments before the storm of lasbolts destroyed her crippled Excalibur. She had enough power and oxygen to last for a while, but she doubted any rescue was coming. In the distance, the _Hrimfaxi_ birthed a new star as the crippled vessel self-destructed.

The area around Juggernaut Three suddenly became much brighter and more crowded when a dozen Chaos attack craft were suddenly reduced to fire, hot gas, and shrapnel. A few selective applications of gravitric impellers put her out of harm's way as several more enemy attack craft exploded. The pilot looked around confusedly, only to jerk backwards in surprise as an Eldar fighter screamed past her, passing within centimeters of her faceplate.

* * *

**Operations Room, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Seven Hours Later**

"We have confirmation of the _Baltia_'s self-destruction. Nearby ships have picked up approximately six hundred survivors, and rescue operations are ongoing."

"Message from the Eldar fleet: one of their pilots picked up a survivor. A pilot from the _Hrimfaxi_, callsign Juggernaut Three."

With thousands of gutted hulks littering the battlefield spewing radiation and atmosphere, long-range combat quickly progressed from difficult to impossible. In just a few short hours, the battle at the edge of the Terra system had devolved from a fairly organized defensive action into a brutal close-range brawl. Enormous slab-sided Imperial and Chaos warships practically piled atop one another and exchanged devastating broadsides until one or both ships were destroyed. Eldar and Black Knights ships disrupted enemy fleet formations with hit-and-run attacks and flanking maneuvers, but even they were slowly being drawn into the melee.

"Reports of dwindling FLEIJA reserves all over the fleet!"

As the battle raged, Valkyrie-class utility vessels darted between the shells and lances, hurriedly repairing and rearming Black Knights warships and attack craft squadrons. When an allied ship was destroyed or self-destructed, they were often the first to initiate search-and-rescue operations. Even as torpedoes nearly a tenth the size of their ship exploded all around them, the famously level-headed crews continued their work. Despite ferocious protection from nearby warships, Valkyries were lost by the dozen.

"Report from the _Pendragon_: left flank collapsing! 17th Fleet at seventy-three percent strength!"

"Report from the _Rio de Janeiro_: Chaos fleet is regrouping for another charge! 18th Fleet at fifty-eight percent strength!"

A mass of red triangles dominated the tactical map, slowly but surely pushing the allied fleets back. Though the Chaos fleet hammered every portion of the defensive line, the ships assaulting the arbitrarily-designated left flank were grouped together so tightly that they appeared as a crimson blob.

"Report from Fleet Admiral Jez: 20th Fleet moving to support left flank! She's allotting one-third of her remaining ships to shore up the line!"

* * *

**Chaos Battleship _Eternity of Blood  
_Edge of the Terra System**

"My lord, Captain Aaugngg is requesting reinforcements. He claims to be on the verge of a breakthrough that can potentially shatter the entire enemy line."

"Then he shall have them. Reallocate the _Screaming Executioner_ and its supporting elements to Augngg's assault. Inform him that he either returns with the Imperial Admiral's head or not at all."

"It shall be done immediately, my lord," the thrall gulped.

Warmaster Izolham spared the thrall no second glance and turned back to the hololith display. His predecessor, that fool of a Warmaster Rusin, had made the mistake of drawing out the battle, choosing to slowly grind down the Imperial defenders, and it cost him dearly. If the Black Knights hadn't killed him, their leader surely would have. Izolham would not make the same mistake: his plan consisted solely of overwhelming attack after overwhelming attack, all culminating in a series of crushing hammer blows. He cared not if he lost a thousand warships doing so: the Despoiler made it abundantly clear that all ships and soldiers deployed to the vanguard force were considered expendable.

The Chaos Warmaster leaned back in his command throne and tuned his vox set to the _Eternity of Blood_'s dungeons, relishing in the agonized screams that met his ears. Captured enemy soldiers, members of rival warbands, even thralls who had displeased him, it mattered not. The twisted imaginations of Izolham's personal torturers could extract the most delightful screams from anyone. They tirelessly carried out their duty, knowing that displeasing their Warmaster for even a moment or allowing their charges to expire too quickly meant joining their victims on the torture rack.

"My lord…" a thrall nervously approached the command throne.

The unfortunate messenger paid for his interruption when Izolham's enormous hand wrapped around his head. The thrall's body thrashed about, much to the Traitor Astartes' amusement, for several moments before the Warmaster crushed his head. The body had barely hit the ground when explosions rocked the _Eternity of Blood_ and nearly threw Izolham off his command throne.

"What was that?" Izolham demanded.

"An Eldar fleet has appeared behind us! They've begun their attack run!"

"What?" the Warmaster roared in fury, "Why was I not informed sooner?"

Nobody dared correct him that he had killed the chosen messenger. As Izolham's gaze raked the bridge, the crew sank into their seats in a futile effort to turn invisible.

"You!" the Astartes settled on the highest-rank sensor technician, "To the dungeon with you!"

The thrall screamed for mercy as two of Izolham's black-hooded masters of pain appeared and dragged the officer off. The remaining bridge crew tried their best to ignore the condemned man's frantic pleas, lest they join him.

"You!" the second highest-ranking sensor technician cowered as Izolham pointed to him, "Congratulations on your promotion. Now, I want information on that new Eldar fleet!"

"Yes, my lord!" the thrall somehow managed to avoid stammering.

* * *

**Chaos Cruiser _Bloodthirsty  
_Thirty Minutes Later**

Aaugngg, bearer of the Mark of Chaos Undivided, chuckled throatily as a massive volley of torpedoes and plasma blasts outright incinerated a Lunar-class cruiser and crippled its neighbor. Lance fire from the ships under him carved up the crippled Imperial warship.

"My lord, the requested reinforcements are within optimum firing range! It's the _Screaming Executioner_ and a fleet of support ships!"

"Excellent," Aaugngg rumbled, "Have it fire a volley from its Nova Cannon at these coordinates."

"My lord…" the thrall flinched as the Chaos Champion whirled around to face him.

"Is there a problem?" Aaugngg asked in a deceptively-calm voice.

"My lord, these coordinates…the _Slaughterfrenzy_ and several support ships are…"

"Had they carried out my orders as I had given them," Aaugngg thundered, "I would not have needed to request reinforcements! This is merely the price they pay for their incompetence! Now, order the attack!"

Aaugngg faced the thrall once more, only to see that he had died of fright. Enraged, he grabbed the corpse and removed its head with a savage twist. The Champion of Chaos Undivided yanked the first thrall to stumble within arm's reach off his feet and threw him down into the communications officer's still-warm seat. The rest of the bridge crew carefully averted their eyes, lest they draw their lord's ire.

The Nova Cannon's initial blast incinerated the _Slaughterfrenzy_ and all but two of the ships under its command along with several Imperial warships. The survivors attempted to withdraw, but the volley of lances and torpedoes that followed ripped the cowards to shreds. Some of Aaugngg's prior anger melted away at the sight of such indiscriminate destruction, and whatever choler remained morphed into glee when he noticed a dagger-shaped hull spinning through space, venting atmosphere from multiple breaches in its armor. It was tiny, yet bitter experience said that warships of its type could take and deal out a level of punishment on par with any of their capital ships. Caught in the edge of the blast zone, the ship was heavily damaged but not quite out of the fight yet.

"Helm! Pull us alongside that ship!" Aaugngg gestured towards the disabled warship, "I want boarding pods ready to launch as soon as we're in range!"

Three years ago, Aaugngg had presented a captured Lunar-class cruiser and its crew to the Warmaster. The tribute had so pleased Izolham that Aaugngg was promoted on the spot and granted command of the _Bloodthirsty_. He could only imagine what reward would await him if he secured such a prize as a Black Knights dreadnought.

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Rio de Janeiro  
_Fifteen Minutes Later**

"Defensive positions! Ready hadron cannons!"

Twenty pairs of hadron cannons silently slid forward on their rails. The rounded hexagonal casings split open along hidden seams, revealing handles for waiting hands. The militiamen pointed the deadly weapons as far upwards as the joints would allow, aiming out of the great rent in the dreadnought's hull and towards the rapidly-growing specks in the distance. The _Rio de Janeiro_'s point-defense batteries inflicted a dear toll on the enemy boarding craft, but more were just behind them.

"Drop pods incoming! Volley fire!"

At such ranges, even the Archangels' powerful hadron cannons only annoyed the heavily-armored Dreadclaw assault pods. However, hundreds of cultists, eager for bloodshed and glory, had simply thrown themselves out of airlocks with little more than void suits and the blessings of their patrons for protection. Among them, the weapons inflicted horrific casualties. Many cultists were outright vaporized, and even a glancing hit was a death sentence. Many were left writing in space, their limbs flailing ineffectually as precious oxygen leaked from ruptured air tubes. Others were reduced to desiccated husks, the vacuum violently sucking out their blood and internals through open wounds.

The first Dreadclaw to touch down was scythed apart by concentrated fire before the outer panels could fall away and disgorge the troops within. Several militiamen stowed their cannons and pulled out their assault rifles as the first cultists touched down. Disoriented for several seconds by the sudden reintroduction of gravity, the first waves were quickly mowed down.

* * *

**Eldar Battleship _Khaine's Wrath  
_Edge of the Terra System**

"Autarch, the fleet is in optimum firing range."

The Autarch stared intently at the tactical map for several moments, her subordinates holding their breaths in anticipation. The short-sighed mon-keigh commanders had correctly anticipated Autarch Tadbuar's hammer-and-anvil maneuver, but the fools fought assuming his fleet was the entire Eldar force. The miscalculation had allowed Areciberd more than enough time to set up her encirclement.

"Drop holofields and open fire! _Mael danaan!_" Autarch Areciberd screeched.

* * *

With all the confusion surrounding the bloodbath at the system's edge, the Chaos fleet failed to notice the Eldar battle fleet quietly breaking off its attack runs. Sensing something was amiss and perhaps fearing betrayal, the Black Knights and Imperial fleets began falling back as Tadbuar's warships withdrew to the edge of the battlefield. Driven wild with bloodlust, Warmaster Izolham ordered all his ships to press the attack. His ignorance cost him dearly as the Eldar fleet regrouped and began a synchronized attack run.

A violent barrage of sonic torpedoes and pulsar lances shattered the Chaos charge and sent the survivors reeling. Diving between newly-opened gaps in the formation, the Eldar warships prioritized the largest and most intimidating ships, taking out many of Izolham's middle-ranking commanders and decapitating the enemy command structure. In the precious moments of respite granted by the confusion, the remaining defenders rallied and launched a withering barrage of plasma torpedoes, FLEIJA warheads, lances, and hadron beams at the Chaos fleet.

The Warmaster's roar of rage as his fleet was ripped apart before his eyes drove several thralls insane with fear, and many others abandoned the bridge in a desperate bid to escape his wrath. When Autarch Areciberd's fleet revealed their presence, the fates of Izolham's fleet and his ambitions of ascending further in the Despoiler's hierarchy were sealed.

* * *

**Sector A-32  
Black Knights Dreadnought _Rio de Janeiro_**

Second Lieutenant Cody Guiterrez cracked a nearby cultist across the face with his rifle butt, breaking the man's neck with an audible _snap_. Cody stumbled, dropping his rifle, as a pair of cultists jumped onto his back, intending to restrain him as a third man charged him with bayonet lowered. The Lieutenant slammed into the wall, shattering all the bones in one cultist's body, and drove his elbow into the other's stomach. The man relaxed his grip around Cody's neck just enough for the militiaman to wrench the cultist's arm away and throw him over his shoulder. The flying cultist slammed into his charging comrade, sending both of them flying backwards.

"_Blood for the Blood God!_"

Cody straightened just in time to see another cultist charge him, chainsword in hand. He dove for his fallen rifle and vaporized the man's torso with a point-blank shot from the underslung spread cannon. Standing up, he watched one of his subordinates throw the last cultist to the ground and impale him with a hadron blade.

"This is Lieutenant Guiterrez to command, Sector A-32 is clear. Repeat, Sector A-32 is clear."

"Roger, Lieutenant Guiterrez. Picture is clear. Good work."

"This is Lieutenant Maclin!" a new voice broadcasted over the general frequencies, "We're under heavy assault by Plague Marines supported by Nurglite cultists at Sector A-24! We need reinforcements!"

"You heard the man!" Lieutenant Guiterrez switched to his squad channel, "Move out!"

* * *

**Operations Room, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_One Hour, Fifteen Minutes Later**

"Report from the _Rio de Janeiro_: boarders successfully repelled! They're joining the allied advance!"

"Report from the _Pendragon_: they've broken through! The enemy's left flank is confused and disoriented!"

"Warp jumps detected! The Chaos fleet is retreating!"

A great cheer echoed throughout the Operations Room as the Chaos ships disappeared in ones and twos, then by the tens. Allied ships surged ahead, tearing apart many ships before they could retreat. Others successfully escaped, but the amount of damage they sustained beforehand ensured they would not survive the journey. The image of Chaos ships, their Gellar fields damaged moments before entering the Warp, torn apart by ravenous Warp-beasts, proved deliciously karmic.

"I've been wondering…what do Eldar drink?" one of the operators asked his neighbor over a private channel.

"Who cares?" the second operator shouted in response, "I'm treating their admiral to enough drinks to kill an Ork, and I've got enough spare luxury goods chits to do it!"

If the operators' remarks were anything to go by, Autarchs Tadbuard and Areciberd and the crews under them would never need to pay for an alcoholic beverage ever again.

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Two Hours Later**

Though they hid it well, the Companions looked on in great interest as Psychic Special Warfare operatives flashed in and out of existence, each holding nondescript-looking electronic components as they reappeared. The Tech-Priests leaned in for a closer look as the other Knightmares assembled the components into a holographic projector. Several jumped back in amazement as the device activated and began initial diagnostics. The display was crisp and clear, unlike the flickering and static-laden projections of Imperial devices. The head Tech-Priest practically cried tears of joy when Nunnally offered to leave the projector with them after the meeting.

The image of an Eldar Farseer flanked by two Autarchs suddenly bursting from the projector caused several Custodes' fingers to tighten around their guardian spears.

"I am Nunnally Lamperouge, governor of the Black Knights," Nunnally opened with a polite bow, "On behalf of my people, I thank you for the assistance you have given to us and our allies today."

"I am Farseer Elehdibn," the center Eldar returned her bow, much to the onlookers' surprise, "I accept your thanks on behalf of Craftworld Altansar."

"I mean no insult, Farseer," Nunnally carefully ventured, "but we've never received aid from the Eldar without strings attached."

"And so you're wondering about our ulterior motives?" Elehdibn finished with a tone one would normally use to discuss the weather.

Nunnally slowly nodded.

"Shortly after our Craftworld's escape from the Eye of Terror," the Farseer began, "a message arrived in the Dome of the Crystal Seers. The message was brief, consisting only of a set of spatial coordinates and a time, but since that day, there has not been a Farseer on Altansar who does not know the message by heart. The intrusion had already caused a huge commotion amongst the Craftworld's inhabitants, but it paled in comparison to the one caused by the messenger herself."

As she mentally compared a few dates, Nunnally had a feeling she already knew the messenger's identity.

"Even today," Elehdibn concluded, "the children of Altansar learn the story of the green-haired witch."

* * *

**Chaos Battleship _Chaos Ascendant  
_?**

"We were on the verge of breaking through, my lord, but the arrival of a second Eldar fleet tipped the balance to the Imperial's favor…"

"I see," Abaddon interrupted, "Tell me, Izolham, who gave you permission to withdraw?"

"My lord?" the Warmaster, prostrate upon the floor, looked up in confusion.

"Firing solution locked, my lord," Abaddon's gunnery officer announced.

"Open fire."

Izolham's pleas for mercy abruptly cut off as the hololith display went blank. As his gunners methodically destroyed the condemned warships, the Despoiler turned around and casually strode off the bridge. The defenses around Terra were battered and weakened, but they stood. A fleet of experienced ships and crews, lost. All things considered, the initial assault on Terra was a resounding success. True, the commanders he assigned to the assault were all rising stars, but a meteoric rise led to dangerous amounts of ambition. He had weeded out the seeds of future rebellion before they took root. He now knew what the Imperium's new allies were capable of. Most importantly of all, he had forced the Eldar out of hiding, drawn their fleets away from his real goal.

"Summon Fulgrim," Abaddon ordered as the blast door closed behind him, "Thus begin the final days of Craftworld Altansar."

* * *

**A/N:** And so, our main antagonist appears at last! And still...why? Why would there be an A_b_a_dd_on the Despoiler, and A_bb_a_d_on of the Dark Mechanicum? Oh, and for those who don't know or don't want to comb the Lexicanum, "Mael danaan!" is a term originating from the second Battlefleet Gothic novel, Shadow Point, according to the Lexicanum. It means "No mercy!" or "No quarter!" according to the same source. Anyhow, another omake! Unfortunately, not a fun one... There's only one more of these, I promise.

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Seven: Society**

In the lull following the Despoiler's initial assault on Terra, several Inquisitors and high-ranking Imperial officials were allowed aboard the _Ikaruga_. Several of the visitors later called the Black Knights "an army with a supply depot the size of a small hab level," and many parallels with the former Imperial Fortress World of Cadia were drawn. Such an evaluation is not completely inaccurate.

_Culture:_ If one were to distill the entirety of the Black Knights' culture down to one core value, the result would be "service to the Fleet." From birth to death, every Black Knight is expected to serve the Fleet in some capacity, barring extraordinary circumstances. Even the most menial of jobs has little stigma attached to it, as far more emphasis is placed on figuring out how one can best serve the Fleet than doing so in the most visible possible manner.

As one may expect, the concept of military service is deeply ingrained in the Black Knights' psyche. Most civilian clothing is based off of military uniforms, and the vast majority of entertainment features decidedly martial themes and subject matter. Physical activity—whether organized sports or group calisthenics—is a popular pastime, and most citizens will have seen a Knightmare and shot a hadron weapon by the age of thirteen. Due to the ever-present dangers of the galaxy, all citizens above the age of sixteen are issued a hadron pistol and are required to keep it charged an on their person at all times. In reference to this, "receiving your first issue" is synonymous with growing up.

Though not exactly xenophobic, citizens of the Fleet rarely come in contact with outsiders and, even in the case of allies, usually treat them with caution. Considering the number of highly-dangerous alien species the Fleet has come into contact with and even exterminated over the course of its long history, such an outlook is understandable. In addition, while the average citizen is aware of the Ruinous Powers and daemons, the Black Knights tend to view the universe in a starkly scientific light.

_Education: _"Knowledge is power," according to long-forgotten human scholars, and the Black Knights fiercely cling to the principle. After the initial hard times following the exodus, Governor Lamperogue instituted a policy of compulsory education at the Fleet's expense for all children between the ages of five and sixteen. Any ship expected to house a considerable number of civilians for extended periods of time is constructed with purpose-built classrooms.

School is held in three three-month cycles, with one-month extended breaks in between. As all citizens are required to serve in the militia, subjects such as xenobiology and extreme-conditions survival are given particular emphasis. Physical education and basic mastery of one's psychic abilities are also stressed. However, students also receive at least a basic schooling in the sciences and the liberal arts.

Following this basic education, most will enter apprenticeship programs or directly into the work force. A few will pursue advanced education in preparation of entering professions such as research. Such training is usually carried out aboard the _Ikaruga_ or specially-converted Valkyries.

_Economy:_ "So long as you look after the Fleet, the Fleet looks after you," a teacher once remarked. Even after countless thousands of years, nobody has come up with a more succinct definition of the Fleet's economy. Basic necessities of life—clothing, food, housing, medical care, et cetera—are furnished by the Fleet in exchange for its citizens' labor. Though such a system is admittedly easy to exploit, thousands of years of societal programming allows this system to function rather well.

However, trade does occur aboard the Fleet. As resources are usually far from plentiful, bartering of unused rations is both commonplace and encouraged. The closest thing the Fleet possesses to a currency is luxury goods chits. Though physical scrip was issued in the early days following the exodus, the Fleet has long since switched over to an all-electronic format. These chits can be exchanged for various goods, ranging from entertainment holos to alcoholic beverages, to supplement the adequate, but far from exciting, Fleet rations.

_Government: _Though ultimate authority lies with the Black Knights' immortal quadrumvirate of leaders, they rarely govern directly. Usually, they are content with allowing their subordinates to handle day-to-day administration and instead focus their efforts on their inscrutable plans for the ships tend to follow a strict, military-style hierarchy, but most administration is handled by a highly-efficient bureaucracy. In the battle fleets and the militia, the strict hierarchy continues all the way to the highest levels of administration. Production fleets, on the other hand, are governed by councils of ships' captains and their representatives at the highest levels. The quadrumvirate directly appoints high-level administrators, but the other positions tend to be elected.

Citizens of the Fleet are granted fairly extensive personal freedoms, so long as they do not negatively impact the Fleet's overall welfare. Though any citizen has the right to bring another before a tribunal, such a course of action is considered the last resort. Such tribunals are formed as needed and vary in composition depending on the nature of the charges. Only a very tiny number of crimes are punishable by execution, with the preferred punishment being hard labor or deployment to a particularly undesirable battlefront.

**A/N:** Dear 2011 Soraga: The Black Knights are a socialist military dictatorship. Signed, 2012 Soraga.

Dear 2012 Soraga: Very funny. Which one of my friends put you up to this? Signed, 2011 Soraga.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: The Calm

**Disclaimer:** I own neither _Code Geass_ nor _Warhammer 40k_.

**Chapter Sixteen: The Calm**

**Dome of the Crystal Seers, Craftworld Altansar  
003.M41**

Farseer Rellaol's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors of Altansar's core. The psychic energies of the wraithbone walls manifested themselves as a quiet hum growing steadily louder in the back of the Farseer's mind. Two Wraithlords, each sitting on a throne built into the wall and with their massive wraithblades resting at their feet, flanked the doorway at the corridor's end. Their blank, oblong heads tracked Rellaol's approach, but they otherwise made no movements. The wraithbone portal quietly slid open, allowing Rellaol passage into the Dome before sliding closed again.

The Farseer paused after taking a step inside the Dome of the Crystal Seers and closed his eyes. The souls of a thousand impossibly-ancient Farseers swirled around him, their voices whispering long-forgotten words of wisdom into his mind. He opened his eyes and scanned the enormous groves of crystalline trees, each extending all the way to the Craftworld's exterior. Rellaol blinked and turned slightly to face the ring of crystal statues at the Dome's center. On a day far into the future, he would join the ranks of the Crystal Seers, his body forever preserved in crystal and his soul given to the Infinity Circuit, guiding future generations of Farseers.

As of now, however, the Farseer's troubles lay firmly in the present. Dark bags hung under Rellaol's eyes, the evidence of many restless nights. Every time he closed his eyes, dreams tormented him. A robed woman, a malformed trident, and, most disturbing of all, a great war fought in a system with a yellow star. Perhaps they were mere nightmares, perhaps they were prophetic visions. Others on the Path of the Seer were no help, and the other members of the Farseer Council eventually advised Rellaol to seek the Crystal Seers' wisdom.

As Rellaol approached the great gathering of Crystal Seers, he realized he wasn't the first one there. A robed figure knelt in the middle of the circle, seemingly oblivious to his presence. The Farseer psychically notified the nearby Aspect Shrines—as impressive as the Wraithlords outside were, they were primarily meant to keep intruders from entering the Dome in the first place and were unable to fit through the doorway, even if bowed—and cautiously approached the figure.

"Hello, Farseer Rellaol," the figure suddenly addressed him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Who are you?" Rellaol demanded.

The figure slowly stood up, allowing the Farseer a better look at the intruder. The robes were plain and nondescript, but obviously of high quality. Rellaol noted, to no small amount of alarm, that a simple but elegant blade lay by the intruder's feet. He tensed up, gripping his staff a little tighter.

"Calm down. If I had meant you or anyone else harm, I would not have allowed you to find me here," the figure remarked while slowly turning around.

The first thing that Rellaol noticed was the intruder's eyes: in all of his years, he had never seen anything resembling their particular shade of gold. Long green hair framed a distinctly feminine face, with a red tattoo peeking out between her bangs. She possessed a delicate but sharp beauty fitting of an Eldar maiden, but her features were just a bit too rounded to be Eldar. Rellaol stepped back in shock as he recognized the woman in his dreams.

"What do you want?" Rellaol demanded once he regained his composure.

The Farseer mentally relaxed as he sensed the wraithbone doors cycling open. Silent footsteps made their way around the Dome's perimeter. All he needed to do now was to keep her talking.

"I have come to deliver a message," the woman answered, "It would be in your best interest to listen to it."

"And what might that message be?" Rellaol asked, his features calm and smoothly arrogant as he sensed the requested reinforcements moving in.

"Are those Howlings Banshees going to attack me, or are they just here to watch?"

Rellaol recoiled in shock as, their cover blown, a trio of Howling Banshees burst from the trees. As some of the Eldar's deadliest Aspect Warriors closed in, the woman calmly stood her ground, not even making a move towards her sword.

The first Banshee lunged forward, sword aimed at the intruder's face. Even with his heightened senses, Rellaol couldn't tell when the woman had moved, only that she did and then deflected the blow aside with her bare hands. A swift blow to the throat turned the Aspect Warrior's devastating sonic screech into a series of gurgling noises. With surprising speed, the green-haired woman threw an arm across the Banshee's upper torso and threw her to the ground as the remaining two warriors closed in. The intruder grabbed the second Banshee's sword arm as she lunged, forcing it upwards before she sent the Eldar warrior flying with a palm strike. She ducked under the third Banshee's swipe, and then staggered her with a series of lightning-fast jabs to the stomach. The final Banshee collapsed following a vicious neck chop.

"They're not dead, if that's what you're afraid of," the woman casually remarked as she turned towards Rellaol.

A voice deep in the Farseer's mind told him that it could have gone very differently had the intruder decided.

"What is the message you were sent to deliver?" Rellaol asked once again, significantly more politely this time but while still gripping his staff tightly.

"It concerns the future of your Craftworld. The entire Seer Council must hear it."

Rellaol briefly considered resisting, but what chance did he have against somebody who brushed aside three veteran Howling Banshees without so much as breaking a sweat? Conceding defeat, the Farseer turned around and led the intruder out of the Dome of Crystal Seers.

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
017.M51**

"After delivering the message," Farseer Elehdibn continued, "the messenger remained among us. She would visit the various Aspect Shrines, taking special interest in the Howling Banshee, Striking Scorpion, and Warp Spider Shrines. Several months later, she disappeared just as suddenly as she appeared."

Nunnally's eyes widened as the final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. CC was unpredictable even at the best of times, and the three of them had long suspected some sort of hidden agenda. At the very least, she had been privy to details of the Black Knights' ultimate purpose that Lelouch had not seen fit to tell the rest of them about. The months when the green-haired Psyker disappeared entirely were otherwise so mundane that Nunnally couldn't remember them even if she tried. The day she returned, however, was an interesting one indeed: CC had nonchalantly stridden into the conference room and founded the Psychic Special Warfare Department.

"I sense this woman was somebody you know," the Farseer remarked, snapping Nunnally out of her flashback.

"Yes," Nunnally nodded, "She is an important leader in our civilization. Certain urgent matters kept her from attending this meeting."

Elehdibn failed to hide his curiosity as to what the "urgent matters" were, but ultimately decided not to pry. Nunnally was not about to volunteer the information, either.

The meeting continued for almost another two hours, though none of the topics covered proved as interesting as CC's visit to Craftworld Altansar. Surrounded by Custodians watching their every move, the remaining High Lords of Terra were bought into the Sanctum Imperialis to speak with the Eldar delegation. The Imperium's ruling council was understandably aghast at the thought of a xeno military force, no matter their intentions, coming so close to Holy Terra. Tempers towards the three Black Knights leaders flared and voices were raised. Fortunately, Captain-General Quintinus managed to head off any possible diplomatic incidents, clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly whenever a High Lord seemed close to violence.

Having spent the last several decades figuring out the best way to send her own people to their deaths and enduring the last few days with neither adequate sleep nor sustenance, only to see the most powerful men in the Imperium arguing with her and each other when their entire civilization lay on the line, Nunnally finally snapped. Her lengthy, swear-laden tirade—complete with involuntary psychic pyrotechnics—left Suzaku and Kallen stepping backwards with shock and the High Lords cowering in fear. Farseer Elehdibn made no effort to hide his amusement, both of the Autarchs shook with silent laughter, and Captain-General Quintinus was struck with a suspiciously-long coughing fit.

Once everyone involved regained their composure, the negotiations took on a significantly more subdued and civil tone. The High Lords agreed to allow the Eldar passage to Terra, and the Farseer surprisingly agreed to the rather restrictive conditions placed upon their movement. With a cordial bow and hints of amusement still on his face, Farseer Elehdibn closed the communications channel.

As the images of the Farseer and the two Autarchs faded away, Nunnally turned towards the Tech-Priests. Though they maintained a respectful distance, they had inched steadily closer to the projector over the course of the meeting. As the Companions ushered the High Lords of Terra out of the Sanctum Imperialis, Nunnally nodded to the lead Tech-Priest. With all the dignity they could muster, yet at the same time with all the glee of a child receiving a long-awaited gift, the Tech-Priests rushed over to the projector.

* * *

**Operations Room, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Twenty Hours After the Arrival**

Warmaster Izolham's attack, from his fleet's initial arrival to its disorganized retreat, had relentlessly battered Imperial lines for nearly fifteen straight hours. Once the celebrations died down, the somber task of tallying the losses began. The powerful computers of the _Ikaruga_'s Operations Room worked steadily, collating thousands of reports from their ships out in the field. A dispatch from the _Emperor's Vengeance_, currently running a tally of its own, would occasionally arrive, boosting the already rapidly-climbing count by staggering amounts.

Though the battle itself was brief, a mere five hours of information gathering already placed losses in the millions, and reports were still flooding in. Dozens of Imperial warships, among them an ancient and irreplaceable Oberon-class battleship, were destroyed and hundreds more sustained heavy damage. Many of the millions lost were veterans, the few crews tough enough and experienced enough to survive the long and perilous voyage to Terra. Two Black Knights battle fleets were reduced to little over half strength. Rescue operations had recovered a large number of survivors, but replacing the ships would take years. As they catalogued the losses, orders came down from Governor Lamperouge herself to suppress news of the four Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts scuttled by their crews for as long as possible. Even the late-coming Eldar suffered, their agile warships overwhelmed and destroyed by the sheer volume of weapons fire. More often than not, rescuers returned with one or two survivors and armfuls of soulstones.

Hundreds of smaller Black Knights and Imperial warships combed the debris field at the system's edge, vigilantly searching for survivors and salvageable hulks. Fearing corruption by the Ruinous Powers, heavier ships patrolled nearby, incinerating the wreckage of Chaos warships with lance and hadron fire. An entire production fleet and hundreds of Mechanicum repair ships were assigned to tend to the survivors, but demand for their services outstripped even their capabilities. Warships still combat-effective were repaired and rearmed, while heavily-damaged ones were stripped of usable parts and then scuttled.

* * *

**Black Knights Utility Vessel _Angel of Mercy  
_Edge of the Terra System**

As thousands of personnel labored to restore the ships to fighting condition, thousands more scrambled to treat the wounded. Hundreds of Valkyrie-class utility-vessels-turned-mobile-field-hospitals made their rounds, often grouping together into aid stations. As allied warships began sending over the patients their own medical bays lacked either the room or the equipment, and very often both, to treat, the first wave of medical ships were quickly overwhelmed. Hospital ships from other battle fleets began jumping in, and many more Valkyries were hurriedly repurposed. The Black Knights warships that could spare the resources opened their medical bays to nearby ships and were quickly swamped.

"We've got a dropship off our port quarter from the _Fist of Righteousness_ requesting docking permission. They've got seventy-two wounded aboard, fourteen of them critically!"

The captain tilted his heat to the right, the universal gesture to indicate he was talking to somebody—most likely one of the medical personnel in the utility vessel's belly—over the radio.

"Tell them permission denied," the captain responded several seconds later, "Our medical staff is still treating people from the last shuttle. They haven't even cleared out the receiving deck yet!"

As his subordinate relayed the message to the Imperial vessel, the _Angel of Mercy_'s captain turned towards the second communications station.

"Open a line with the other ships," he ordered, "See if any of them can take on some more patients."

"Sir," the first officer reported, "Their pilot's saying that some of the men won't survive the trip to the next aid station."

"Dammit!" the captain punched the bulkhead in frustration, "Tell him we'd take them on if we had the room, but we simply don't!"

"Sir," the second communications technician chimed in, "The _Rod of Asclepius_ says it can take on the critically-injured ones and is currently en route. The _Pendragon_ is out of beds, but they can spare a field surgery unit."

The captain nodded to the first officer, who began hurriedly relaying the good news.

Another Valkyrie, the words _Rod of Asclepius_ painted in enormous blocky letters on its nose, pulled up next to the Imperial transport moments later. A docking umbilical slowly extended and latched over the dropship's side hatch. Even before the passageway was fully inflated, medical Knightmares had already left the _Rod of Asclepius_ and crossed to the other side, prepared to enter the other vessel as soon as the pressure equalized. The promised field surgery unit had simply blown themselves out of an airlock rather than take a shuttle. A dozen red-and-white Knightmares zipped past the _Angel of Mercy_'s nose, four of them carrying a portable airlock between them and the others carrying crates of surgical supplies.

* * *

**Operations Room, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Five Hours Later**

Despite all the attention paid to the battle and its aftermath, one corner of the Operations Room remained focused on the big picture. The threat of Abaddon's main fleet still hung over all their heads, and a small scout force had quietly jumped away in the confusion after the battle.

"Message from the picket fleet: object confirmed approaching from below the system plane. ETA is seventeen days at current velocity. No positive identification yet, but mass signature is roughly the magnitude of a small planet's."

The main tactical map zoomed out as the picket ships fed new data to the _Ikaruga_. An enormous red blob representing Abaddon's fleet dominated the display, slowly but surely inching towards Terra. A currently-unidentified Warp phenomenon, most likely summoned by Abaddon's followers, defeated all attempts to scan the fleet, so its progress was tracked by its Warp shadow. A much smaller, though still sizable, grey blip joined the blob on the tactical map.

"Update from picket fleet: the geometry of the Chaos fleet's Warp shadow has changed. Initial readings indicate a large number of ships have separated from the main fleet. At current heading and speed, they will intercept the unidentified object within the next twelve hours."

"Update the clock. Get me a line with the Quadrumvirate."

* * *

**Chaos Battleship _Pride of the Emperor  
_?**

"My lord, it is ready."

A shadow stirred from within the smoke at the room's center, its serpentine body coiled around the command throne. Hundreds of burning candles encircled it, each a different variety of incense, and each potent enough to strip any mortal man of his reason a thousand times over. Fulgrim reared up to his full height, his head and upper body rising above the miasma. The many thralls around him, each a powerful Champion of Slaanesh, nervously backed away from the Daemon Prince.

"Do it," he rumbled.

* * *

A metal pod, no more than a dozen meters in diameter and welded shut, was pushed out of the _Pride of the Emperor_'s airlock and into the Warp currents. A dozen Psykers, kidnapped from former Imperial worlds the Emperor's Children had conquered and plundered, were sealed inside. The Daemon Primarch's most trusted subordinates had spent years breaking them, alternately subjecting them to sanity-melting amounts of pleasure and pain until they could no longer tell the difference. They were driven to the very limits of insanity, only for Fulgrim's sorcerers to piece their minds back together to being the process anew. A potent cocktail of chemicals, rumored to have been gifts from the Prince of Pleasure's palace, pumped inside drove them insane with a hundred conflicting sensations.

Though ravenous Warp predators surrounded the _Pride of the Emperor_, none dared approach the massive battleship. The wrath of a Daemon Prince was terrible indeed, and none wished to test the infinite depravities of Fulgrim's imagination. To the Psykers of the metal pod, they showed no such consideration. As the unfortunate souls within clawed at the walls and one another in a desperate bid to escape, daemons and Warp-beasts forced their way inside. Not even the Warp's own unnatural spawn could withstand the mind-melting miasma within, and they soon joined unspeakable orgies within.

As the psychic energies within resonated and built up, the flimsy casing could no longer contain them and burst. The _Pride of the Emperor_ and the numerous ships following it rode the Warp shockwave, the former dropping more such pods along its course.

* * *

**Eldar Battleship _Khaine's Wrath  
_Edge of the Terra System**

Farseer Elehdibn screamed in pain as an unbearable pressure built up in his skull. Bleeding from every orifice, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his staff for support.

"Farseer!"

Autarch Areciberd immediately left her seat and rushed over to the Farseer's side. She would immediately regret that decision as a wave of blinding pain crashed into her. Several bridge officers rushed forward to assist her, only to collapse in agony.

"Something's happening," Elehdibn choked out between the waves of pain, "Altansar's in trouble…get me a line to the Black Knights!"

One of the bridge officers, fighting his way through the haze, crawled towards the communications console and attempted to punch in the correct frequency. His hand slipped on the first attempt, and pained convulsions ruined the second. Merciful unconsciousness claimed him in the middle of the third attempt, and he slid to the floor.

The Farseer struggled to his feet and staggered over to the control panel.

* * *

**Imperial Light Cruiser _Manus Iuris Beta  
_?**

When the Astronomican went out, untold hundreds of ships and their crews were thrown hopelessly off-course or devoured by ravenous Warp-beasts. A few escaped the initial destruction, having been in the Materium when the Emperor left the Golden Throne, but their fates proved little better. Stranded far from Terra and without any safe means of travel, they could only wait to die.

The _Manus Iuris Beta_ had been one of the lucky ones. The Endeavor-class light cruiser and the other four ships of its squadron were travelling with a ragtag fleet of twelve vessels when a sudden Warp current knocked them slightly off-course. Though the deviation was minor, the Navigators insisted that the fleet drop out of the Warp to reacquire its bearings. Unfortunately for the convoy, their re-entry into the Warp coincided with the Astronomican's extinguishing. As the rear guard, the _Manus Iuris Beta_ could only watch helplessly as the other eleven ships were torn apart by violent Warp currents.

Though still many dozens of light-years from Terra, the convoy had come close enough that the _Manus Iuris Beta_ could travel the remaining distance in short, calculated hops. Though initially reluctant to do so, the Navigator eventually agreed to steer the ship towards Terra from memory with a healthy dose of dead reckoning.

"Arriving in sixty seconds," the helm officer calmly announced.

"I have plotted the next jump. If the currents do not shift, it shall take us to the edge of Terra."

The captain acknowledged the information with a nod and picked up his vox headset.

"All stations, brace for transition into the Materium."

"Arrival in thirty seconds."

The _Manus Iuris Beta_'s captain leaned back in his command throne. For the first time since the Manus Iuris squadron destroyed its own headquarters rather than allow it to fall into Chaos hands, he allowed himself a moment's relaxation. In just a few hours, they would reach the relative safety of Terra. He didn't expect any rest upon arrival, but seeing another Imperial ship and possibly having the opportunity to take on supplies would be an Emperor-send. A loud _bang_ violently bought him back to reality.

"Report!" he sharply demanded.

His Navigator's sudden absence of a head and the brain matter currently coating both the dead man's console and his shell-shocked neighbor told the captain all he needed to know. Before he could order a clean-up crew to the bridge, he was thrown from his command throne.

"What was that?"

"It's a sudden Warp current!" the helm officer answered while clinging to his console for dear life, "The ship's getting ripped apart!"

"Drop us out of the Warp!" the captain shouted, "I don't care if we wind up in the middle of a _star_!"

The sudden transition back into the Materium tossed everyone out of their seats. The helm officer lost his grip and flew over the console, dashing his head on a nearby wall. The communications officer slammed into a bulkhead and was currently groaning in pain while clutching his left arm. Another bridge officer, a piece of shrapnel having severed his jugular artery, gurgled and clutched his throat for several seconds before expiring.

The captain's demands for a medical team and a damage report were cut short. Craftworld Altansar's rapidly-approaching surface was the last sight he ever saw.

* * *

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Twenty Minutes Later**

"The Psychic Special Warfare people are freaking out, ma'am. Doctors have had to restrain and sedate a good number of them. A few injuries were reported, mostly people passing out and hitting equipment or bulkheads, but nothing too severe as of yet. Besides that, it's mostly severe headaches, nausea, and nosebleeds all throughout the Fleet."

"Keep me posted," Nunnally ordered before closing the line.

The Psychic Special Warfare operatives with them had it worst of all, all of them having fallen unconscious when the Warp shockwave reached them. Kallen knelt next to them, assessing their injuries at a remarkable rate considering her own mental condition. The militiamen were still standing, albeit shakily, and Nunnally could tell that a few of them were fighting to stay conscious. Suzaku advised them to sit down before collapsing onto the floor himself.

"How are they?" Suzaku turned his head towards Kallen.

"They'll survive," Kallen groaned, "Though they'll probably spend the first few hours after waking up wishing they hadn't."

The plates of Kallen's helmet separated and folded back, allowing the redhead to massage her temples and the bridge of her nose. As a Psyker of her magnitude, she had been harder-hit by the shockwave than any of the unconscious operatives, but her defenses were also proportionately stronger. Still, the last time her head hurt so much was when an entire Raider squad, on leave after having survived a particularly difficult mission, wagered that she couldn't outdrink them all. Needless to say, Kallen had an unusually-large amount of pocket change that month.

"If we've been affected this badly," Nunnally began while massaging her temples, "I can only imagine what the Eldar got."

As if sensing her concern, Nunnally's headset beeped. The sound did little to alleviate her headache, but the message was mercifully audio-only. With a pained groan, the governor tapped her communicator and opened the channel. From the corner of her eye, she could see Suzaku tilting his head to the right and Kallen summoning her helmet.

"Governor Lamperouge speaking."

"Ma'am, we're received an update from the picket fleets: the object they've been tracking has disappeared. A massive Warp storm had flared up around its last confirmed location. Scanners are unable to penetrate the storm, and it's currently too dangerous to move any closer."

It didn't take Nunnally long to put two and two together.

"Additionally," the voice continued, "We've received a message from Farseer Elehdibn. Should I patch him through?"

"Do it," Nunnally ordered.

* * *

**Briefing Room, Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon  
_Two Hours Later**

Like its sister ship _Avalon_, the _Caerleon_ was designed from keel-up to deliver an Orbital Planetary Assault Wing to the battlefront. While less-fortunate OPAWs had to make do with whatever reasonably large and open space they could find, the 10th OPAW had a state-of-the-art briefing room at its disposal. A holographic tactical map covered the entire rear wall, and the room could seat all one hundred twenty members of the 10th OPAW at once. A combination of excitement and nervousness hung in the air, and the room buzzed with a dozen quiet conversations.

"Officer on deck!"

All conversation immediately ceased as one hundred nineteen pairs of feet crashed against the floor. A Cherub-type Knightmare with Captain's insignia painted on its shoulders took the podium at the front of the room. Every eye in the room, however, was focused on the Guren-Seraph standing several paces behind and to his right. The Captain briskly returned the OPAW's salute.

"Take your seats."

The scraping sounds lasted for all of several seconds.

"Men," the Captain began, "Our orders come from the very top. They were signed by General Kozuki herself barely an hour ago. Not only will the General be leading this assault in person, she will brief you on the details of your mission."

"Thank you, Captain Schuelke," Kallen stepped up to the podium.

The holographic display behind the Guren immediately lit up. A recording of the _Ikaruga_'s main tactical map dominated the display.

"As you already know, we received help from Eldar military forces during the battle several hours ago. We have since identified them as forces from Craftworld Altansar."

A picture of an Eldar rune, resembling two triangles with a short rod connecting them, appeared. Pictures of Eldar Guardians dressed in crimson and black armor scrolled by at high speed.

"Until 999.M41 by the Imperial calendar, this Craftworld was thought lost, trapped in the Eye of Terror. During Abaddon's Thirteen Black Crusade, the Craftworld managed to free itself and began drifting towards Terra. Though we have yet to discover how they avoided Imperial attack thus far, their journey nears its end."

Kallen used her non-clawed hand to point towards the pulsing grey blip on the map.

"For several hours since the battle, we have been tracking a large, unidentified object that we now know to be Craftworld Altansar. As of the most recent sighting, it was approximately seventeen days away from the outskirts of Terra."

The entire 10th OPAW had a feeling they knew what was coming next.

"Approximately two hours ago, our picket ships detected a sizable force detaching from Abaddon's main fleet. We believed they intended to intercept the Craftworld, and that they would need roughly twelve hours to make the intercept. Shortly afterwards, the Terra system was hit by a massive psychic shockwave. Though we are still working on finding out the source of the shockwaves, it is obvious they were artificial in nature and likely the result of a powerful Chaos ritual. The Chaos fleet's journey was significantly shortened, and a massive Warp storm has engulfed both it and Craftworld Altansar."

When Kallen paused to catch her breath, nobody dared breathe.

"If our estimates are correct, the Chaos assault on Craftworld Altansar began almost two hours ago."

* * *

**A/N:** And thus begins our next plot arc! Additionally, the muses conspire to make a liar of me yet again. There is one more info-dump omake after this one.

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Nine: Technology**

What the Black Knights lack in quantity, they make up in quality. Their unlimited access to highly-advanced technology, with even the greenest recruit issued a brand-new Knightmare and a high-quality hadron weapon, gives them a significant edge over their enemies. As the Warp storms closed around Terra and the Age of Strife approached, the _Ikaruga_ fled beyond the boundaries of known space with humanity's last STC. Since then, the Fleet's highly-capable scientists and engineers have maintained a brisk pace of innovation.

_Electronics:_ Over the millennia, methods of data gathering have stayed surprisingly static: radio remains one of the best methods of communication, and radar one of the best detection apparatuses. However, data processing has evolved greatly, and development of increasingly-powerful computers continues. Capable of processing information at rates unimaginable with even the Imperium's most advanced solid-state processors, quantum processors were first rediscovered during the first decades of the Age of Technology and continue to form the backbone of the Fleet's computing abilities. To ensure information reaches people who can use it, the Fleet employs a robust communications network. Developed from reverse-engineered Necron technology, faster-than-light communications repeaters function by sending data packets through corridors of compressed space-time. As a result, information can reliably cross the galaxy in a matter of hours. To deny the enemy their information flow, the Black Knights employ sophisticated electronic warfare equipment based off technology developed even before the Age of Terra. The Fleet's warships can broadcast jamming signals that completely blank out conventional sensors and communications, giving friendly ships and their specially-hardened electronics suites a decisive edge over their opponents. Should they find their own sensors jammed, they can fall back to passive detection methods: scanning for vapor and plasma trails, heat, motion, energy signatures, even the disturbances the enemy's mass imparts upon the fabric of space-time. Communication proves slightly more difficult, with the only reliable fallback being tight-beam laser broadcasts.

_FLEIJA Warheads: _One of the deadliest weapons in the Black Knights' arsenal, the first modern FLEIJA warhead was detonated at the height of the Age of Technology. Though yields have grown progressively larger, the basic operating principles remain the same. In the first few fractions of a second following detonate, a micro-singularity forms. Though the effect is negligible outside of a certain radius, anything within the radius is pulled in. Some targets are destroyed by the gravitational forces crushing them or smashing them together, and the rest fall victim to the burst of antimatter released afterwards. FLEIJA warheads come in a wide variety of sizes, ranging from the miniaturized warheads issued to OPAW teams to deal with tanks and heavy armor to ship-fired missiles capable of devastating entire fleets. Warheads meant to deal with particularly stubborn targets, such as the anti-ship missiles mounted on Excalibur-class attack craft, are equipped with a single-use Needle Blazer. The device fires a microsecond before impact, boring a hole in the target's armor and ideally allowing the warhead to pass through and detonate within.

_Gravitric Drives: _First developed during the twenty-fifth millennium, gravitric drives provide propulsion through careful manipulation of superstrings. Ships equipped with such drives can perform maneuvers that would rip any conventionally-propelled ship apart, serving the unintentional secondary purpose of preserving the Fleet's secrecy, as it adds yet another layer of improbability to witnesses' tales. The secrets of manufacturing gravitric drives, especially the knots of distorted space-time that lie at their centers, are of great interest to the Necron Crypteks. In the early forty-ninth millennium, a minor conclave was on the verge of a breakthrough when the Black Knights caught wind of their efforts. An OPAW was immediately dispatched to raze the laboratory, massacring all the Crypteks within and seizing their research data. The raid irrevocably shattered the conclave's power and the information retrieved greatly accelerated development of the gravitric impeller, ushering in the eleventh generation of Knightmares.

_Hadron Manipulation:_ Rediscovered during the Age of Technology, hadron weapons utilize a miniature particle accelerator to generate and fire bursts of antiprotons at a target. Since they annihilate matter at the subatomic level, hadron weapons are difficult to defend against. Early hadron weapons were uncontrollable, relegating them to use as weapons of mass destruction, and a method to stabilize and direct the beams would not be developed until well into the twenty-fifth millennium. The first hadron fields were developed approximately three centuries later. Such devices surround an object in a cloud of fast-moving antiprotons that quickly annihilates anything caught within atom-by-atom. Normally a faint transparent red, hadron fields glow deep crimson when hit. Though handheld hadron weaponry was first fielded by seventh-generation Knightmares, many of the lessons learned from developing the hadron field went into the invention of the energy wings, the Black Knights' distinctive meson-field propulsion and weapons system first introduced with the sixth generation. By the advent of eleventh-generation Knightmares, the Black Knights can freely shape hadron fields into any desired configuration.

_Medicine:_ To outsiders, a Fleet hospital would resemble a place of biomancy. Curing some of the galaxy's worst diseases and genetically-tailoring medicines for specific patients are both common occurrences, discussed with all the fanfare of yesterday's weather. Though conventional medical procedures are utilized in particularly complex cases, most injuries and diseases are treated with specialized medical nanites. With just a few tissue samples, doctors can quickly and easily have replacement limbs and organs vat-grown. In the field, medical foam has saved countless lives. Resembling airy cream, it is a potent mixture of antiseptics, painkillers, coagulants, and first-aid nanites applied directly to a wound. Generally administered via automated dispenser built directly into the Knightmare, though handheld models do exist, the foam quickly expands and hardens to seal the wound. It allows soldiers to essentially ignore minor wounds and stabilizes severely-injured patients for medevac.

_Nanites:_ First developed during the Age of Technology, nanite technology has remained fairly static since. From carrying out lifesaving medical procedures to quality-control on an assembly line, there are few facets of Fleet life untouched by nanites. Though no replacement for dedicated damage-control teams and drydock facilities, nanites can perform emergency repairs on Black Knights warships in the heat of battle. For millennia, maintenance crews and rear-line repair stations have used nanites to quickly put Knightmares back into the fight. As much protection as rutalium carbide provides, even bounced shots leave microscopic cracks that ultimately weaken the armor. Nanites can easily detect and repair these nigh-invisible fractures, dramatically extending the operational life of a Knightmare. However, nanites were thought too unpredictable for Knightmares on the front lines, where a few fractions of a second often decided between life and death. A, most likely apocryphal, story claims that a Knightmare was once reported to have continued fighting despite taking more than enough hits to reduce it to scrap. Later investigation revealed that a batch of maintenance nanites had somehow avoided deactivation and obliviously continued their duties as Tyranid bio-plasma splattered around them. Whatever the truth was, Knightmares from the eighth generation onward featured nanite-based self-repair systems. Around the same time, it became popular to infuse paint with nanites, allowing the rapid change of camouflage schemes on the fly.

_Power Supply:_ As the Second Dark Age bought on by the exhaustion of Terra's Sakuradite supply dragged on, the fossil fuels that greatly aided humanity in slowly clawing its way back up began running out. The Black Knights' scientists responded by developing a new energy filler system, utilizing ceramics instead of Sakuradite. The resulting battery could absorb titanic amounts of heat and gradually release it over the course of hours or even days. Though impractical for large-scale power generation, miniaturized steam turbines utilizing ceramic batteries as a heat source proved ideal for vehicle engines and personal generators. Eventually, fossil fuels gave way to atomic power, which in turn was obsoleted by plasma reactors. Ceramic energy fillers responded to the changing times by replacing steam turbines with apparatuses to convert heat directly into electricity. In the final decades of the Age of Technology, the Black Knights developed the first cold fusion reactor, capable of generating as much power as a plasma reactor without the enormous start-up jolt its predecessor needed. In addition, they pioneered the first major paradigm shift in the design of the humble electrochemical cell in centuries. By adding semiconductor micro-towers, the Fleet's scientists increased battery capacity and life a hundredfold. However, the Machine Wars broke out before either technology's scheduled debuts, and the secrets of both were lost as the Black Knights fled Terra. Despite these new technologies, it took the advent of cold fusion micro-reactors during the fourth generation of Knightmare development to finally obsolete ceramic energy fillers. Arguably the Black Knights' greatest gift to humanity, ceramic energy filler technology is still used by the Imperium in the fifty-first millennium.

_Production:_ If a Mechanicum Tech-Priest were to tour a Black Knights factory or farm, he would be impressed by the sheer quantity and efficiency of production. At the same time, the hypothetical Tech-Priest would be horrified by the reliance on machines. Manpower is the Fleet's most precious resource, and it can afford to waste none of it. Production, whether industrial or agricultural, is automated wherever possible. Hydroponics bays are watched over by enormous machines that ceaselessly monitor and adjust the water and nutrient levels, with only a few human staff on hand to observe, shutting the machines down for maintenance and repairs when required. On many occasions, plant-borne diseases were quickly detected and the infected crops quarantined and destroyed by quick-response nanite swarms, with the staff none the wiser until they reviewed the day's activity logs. Entire industrial assembly lines are staffed solely by specialized machines, with only a small handful of human supervisors. A sharp observer may notice the distinct lack of seam lines on Black Knights Knightmares and warships. While the smaller components were likely solid-cast in the first place, larger components were welded together on an atomic level via nanites. Certain products even undergo quality-control inspection by nanites. However, even in the fifty-first millennium, there remain certain processes—chief among them the creation of psycho-crystalline matrices—that remain too exacting and delicate for machines to handle. As a result, production facilities still retain large numbers of human workers.

_Psycho-Crystalline Matrix:_ Developed around the twenty-fifth millennium following the Black Knights' genetic experiments, the psycho-crystalline matrix is one of the Fleet's cornerstone technologies. In the past, some have compared it to Eldar wraithbone, but while wraithbone is a product of the Warp, psycho-crystalline matrices are the product of science. Moderately strong and a poor conductor of heat and electricity, the substance composing the matrices resembles cream-colored plastic when unpainted. Some of the matrices produced are used for the psychic focusing coils found in the Black Knights' force weapons. The rest undergoes additional treatment for use in Knightmare frames. Though extremely rigid at first glance, a matrix so treated becomes extremely pliable when exposed to psychic energies. The matrix reshapes itself several times a second to match its user's movements, becoming increasingly attuned to the user's psychic signature with continued use. One can identify new recruits from their Knightmares' jerky movements, while veterans move virtually unhindered. Once a matrix is "broken in," it becomes increasingly difficult, and eventually impossible, for another to use it.

_Rutalium Carbide:_ Despite its name, rutalium carbide is actually a highly-complex composite composed of various carbides, metals, and ceramics. Extremely strong and durable through surprisingly heavy, the material possesses a number of other interesting properties that make it well-suited for armor. Besides being poor conductors of heat and electricity, objects made from rutalium carbide absorb a large enough proportion of electromagnetic waves to throw off casual auspex scans. Accordingly, the secrets of its manufacture remain one of their most jealously-guarded secrets. Though finished parts may be sent to specialized Valkyries for final assembly, the material is produced and shaped exclusively aboard Arcadia-class production ships. Even if somebody were to acquire the material's exact composition, the information would do them little good: several stages of manufacture are only possible in zero-gravity conditions, and many more involve exacting applications of extreme heat and pressure.

_Skimmer Drives: _In the organization's earliest days, the leaders of the Black Knights forbade research into Warp Drives. The decision was vindicated in the chaos surrounding the Age of Strife and, later, Abaddon's invasion of the galaxy. The violent Warp currents made even short-distance hops by Warp Drive extremely dangerous, but ships equipped with skimmer drives could jump without fear. Skirting the boundary between the Materium and the Warp, a ship so equipped avoids all but the very strongest Warp currents. While not quite as fast as a Warp Drive for the same reasons, skimmer drives execute much safer and more predictable jumps, capable of delivering entire fleets in close formation with little trouble. Following the Battle of Deneb during the Third Necrotic War, improvements were made to the technology thanks to reverse-engineering of a salvaged Necron inertialess drive. Many of the Fleet's intelligence officials have remarked over the years that the Tau's faster-than-light drive resembles the skimmer drive far too much to be mere coincidence, and several believe that the technology may have been reverse-engineered from some forgotten expedition.

* * *

**A/N:** Yep. Some of the Fleet's major technologies explored. Partly from STC patterns, partly from their own research, and partly stolen from the Necrons. Our next and final volume of the Encyclopedia of the Black Knights will cover their foreign relations. What's that? You think they get along with everyone else? Silly readers, this is the grim darkness of the far future, where there is only war! The Black Knights get into just as many fights as anyone else. They just happen to win a lot more of them.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: The Storm

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_.

**A/N:** In response to Sunzi's review: hmmm…a strong alloy, difficult to replicate, and used to build giant robots…I guess you're right. Hahahaha. I honestly never thought about it that way…and I call myself a Gundam fan…

**Chapter Seventeen: The Storm**

**Drop Bay, Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon  
_Forty-Eight Hours After the Arrival**

Fully-armored and armed, the one hundred twenty members of the 10th OPAW silently awaited the order to drop. Though they appeared standing, a good number had simply locked their leg servos and took the opportunity to relax. Many opted to grab whatever sleep they could before the battle, with only their Knightmares' slightly slumped posture and the comparatively-dull glow of their eyepieces betraying their unconscious state. The few still awake occupied their time with reviewing intelligence reports, brushing up on Eldar language and etiquette, or even talking quietly to one another over private channels.

Even the distinctive bright crimson of the Guren-Seraph was lost amidst the sea of Cherubs. Kallen diligently scanned the troopers around her, offering a few words of advice or reassurance to the particularly nervous-looking ones and discussing some last-minute logistics with Captain Schuelke. Like her fellow immortals, she had slept only the bare minimum required to function ever since arriving at Terra. The power nap on the shuttle to the _Caerleon_ had done wonders, but experience told her that the newfound energy wouldn't last long. Though she hid it admirably, she felt every bit as apprehensive about the upcoming battle as the soldiers around her.

Kallen grimaced under her helmet as she washed down the last mouthful of her combat rations from her Knightmare's food dispenser with several swigs of recycled water. Though infused with various flavors in an attempt to make it more palatable, _nothing_ could mask the texture. She and the others of the 10th OPAW were slated to survive on nothing but barely-edible though highly-nourishing goop for at least the next few days. She had eaten little else ever since arriving on Terra, and to her horror, she was starting to get used to nutrient paste.

"We have entered the outskirts of the Warp storm," announced a feminine voice over the drop bay speaker, "Deployment in fifteen minutes."

Though there was a good chance that the announcer was actually female, the voice over the intercom was produced by sophisticated software. Yet, it still spoke to some deeply-rooted part of the soldiers' psyches and soothed their pre-battle jitters. Metal clamps emerged from the drop bay ceiling and latched securely around the occupants' shoulders. Primarily intended to aid deployment, the clamps nevertheless conferred the secondary benefit of holding the 10th OPAW's members in place as the intense Warp current outside visibly shook the _Caerleon_.

"All hands, be advised we have exited the Warp," the voice informed them, "Brace for sudden evasive maneuvering."

* * *

Time had not been kind to Altansar's once-formidable military forces. Exhausted and already teetering on the brink of annihilation when their Craftworld tumbled into the Eye of Terror, they were further ground down by the unrelenting assaults of She Who Thirst's numerous minions. Finally escaping the maddening realm between the Materium and the Empyrean at the end of the forty-first millennium, the warriors of Craftworld Altansar traded one savage conflict for another. Badly mauled in the savage fighting of Abaddon's Thirteenth Black Crusade, they began their slow limp towards Terra. Hiding behind the guns of the powerful Imperial Navy and facing nothing worse than an occasional disorganized pirate attack, Altansar spent the intervening millennia restoring its military to its former glory.

In heeding the Crystal Seer's prophecies, the Altansar Seer Council stripped away the majority of their defenses and sent them to aid the beleaguered Imperial forces. As hundreds of Eldar warships descended on the unsuspecting Chaos force, the Craftworld and the billions of souls it housed was protected by a meager fleet and prayers to the Eldar pantheon for protection.

Abaddon the Despoiler couldn't have asked for a better opportunity.

* * *

**Vicinity of Craftworld Altansar  
Sixteen Days From the Terra System**

When the _Caerleon_ re-entered the Materium with a flash of green, the battle for Altansar's skies was already well underway. Their sensors blinded by the primordial soup of Chaos or confused by the sheer amount of ordnance crisscrossing the battlefield, neither Eldar nor Chaos paid the new arrival any attention. The tiny destroyer likewise ignored the clashing ships all around it, instead gunning its engines and speeding towards the Craftworld at the battle's center.

The _Caerleon_'s crew was sent flying forward in their acceleration harnesses as the warship screeched to a stop, temporarily reversing direction while drifting into a sharp turn before speeding forwards once again, all within a fraction of a second. Any normal ship would have been immediately torn apart, and the destroyer's hull creaked ominously throughout. A shoal zone in the Warp storm had spontaneously formed a mere three thousand meters ahead of the destroyer, swallowing up several Chaos warships. Unable to handle the stress of the sudden transition into the Materium, their hulls simply disintegrated. Several attack craft lucky enough to escape the sudden deathtrap were dashed against the debris the shoals spit out.

Though greatly outnumbered, the Eldar defenders fought with all the savagery of cornered animals. Robbed of their agility by the Warp storm's various hazards, their ships clustered around the Craftworld and loosed withering hails of munitions at the approaching Chaos fleet. The _Caerleon_ barely avoided ramming into a mortally-wounded Void Stalker on a suicide run. Even as lances and torpedoes blew off huge chunks of its armor, the mortally-wounded warship determinately continued its course. What few weapons remained operational blazed away at the Chaos ships, and some of the surviving crew members even clambered onto the outer hull with heavy weaponry, taking potshots at any Chaos attack craft that swooped down in hopes of easy kills. A stray bolt of Warp lighting cleaved the dying ship in two, but inertia carried the hulk forward.

The Void Stalker's lights finally flickered and died as the ship spent the last of its energy to fire a lengthy burst from its sole remaining pulsar lance. The deadly beams blew a Chaos cruiser clean in two, sending neighboring ships scattering. Several enemy attack craft failed to clear the area in time and were smashed to bits by fast-moving debris. Some of the lances punched straight through the unfortunate cruiser's hull and struck the ships behind it. A heretic Lunar-class cruiser, ablaze and venting atmosphere through multiple hull breaches, slowly spun out of formation and into the no man's land between the two fleets. The crippled hulk collided with the wreckage of the Void Stalker, and both vanished in a burst of superheated gasses and debris.

The _Caerleon_ paid the scene no mind, instead inverting and diving towards the Craftworld's surface. The destroyer leveled out at the last moment, just before hitting Altansar's atmosphere, and swung open its drop bay doors.

* * *

**Drop Bay  
Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon_**

"Light's green! Get ready!"

The clamps' purpose became abundantly clear as the floor beneath the 10th OPAW's feet suddenly retracted. Looking down from many kilometers above the surface, even the sharpest-eyed of the group could see nothing but the highest of Altansar's surface spires. As the _Caerleon_ began circling the Craftworld's enormous girth at insanely high speeds, even those few details began blurring together. Several squadrons of Chaos attack craft had ascended to the very edges of Craftworld Altansar's atmosphere, not to intercept the _Caerleon_, but instead in preparation for their attack runs. They, and the Eldar aircraft rising up to intercept them, appeared as mere specks to the destroyer's passengers.

Had the atmosphere not been drained from the bay beforehand, a series of deafening _boom_s echoing throughout the drop bay would have deafened anybody not wearing significant hearing protection. A bank of explosive bolts blew, and a rank of metal clamps—along with the OPAW troopers attached to them—fell away from the ship. A stream of highly-compressed gas propelled the first wave of troopers clear of the _Caerleon_ as the second group's bolts detonated. Twelve by twelve, the troopers of the 10th OPAW were shot towards their battlefield.

With an ease that came only with extensive practice and hard experience, the 10th OPAW troopers subtly shifted their arms and legs to put themselves into re-entry position. Heads tucked into their chests, arms crossed over the folded weapons clamped to their torso armor, and legs held straight and together, they mentally counted down the seconds before hitting the atmosphere. The metal clamps separated from their Knightmares with a puff of compressed gas and tumbled away, many of them entering the atmosphere ahead of their owners.

"Re-entry in t-minus five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Mark!"

Kallen Kozuki always led from the front, a trait that endeared her to the troopers, and consequently the Guren hit the atmosphere ahead of the 10th OPAW. A faint pinkish haze appeared around the distinctive crimson Knightmare and the dozen Cherubs just behind it. The haze gradually darkened into a bright red as the second wave of troopers entered the atmosphere. By the time the third wave began re-entry, the initial wave had completely disappeared within opaque red fireballs.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51, Day Two of the Siege of Altansar**

"More coming from the left flank!"

The task of retrieving soulstones, normally a priority, was shoved aside as the remaining Guardians rushed to re-orient their firepower. Bodies were left where they lay or propped up against the trench walls to put them out of the defenders' way. Grav Platforms silently pivoted in their foxholes and loosed a fearsome barrage of heavy weapons fire as infantrymen lined up at the trench lip. The precious few grav tanks afforded to the defensive position—mostly Falcons and variants thereof—roared over the trench, guns blazing as they zig-zagged to avoid enemy fire.

The ground shook as a wall of Chaos Leman Russ tanks rumbled over the horizon, stopping every few seconds to unleash an enormous wave of battle cannon rounds at the Eldar defenders. The first volley reduced several Grav Platforms to smoking craters in the ground and blew the turret off one of the Falcon tanks sent forward to intercept. Eldar retaliation was swift, the remaining Grav Platforms launching a barrage of Bright Lances and Krak missiles that decimated the forward ranks. Sanity-stripping litanies filled the air as thousands of Chaos troops clambered over the flaming hulks and began charging across the no man's land.

"Fire!"

Monomolecular disks tore through the horde, ripping through flak armor like tissue paper and cutting down a great many cultists. Driven insane to the point where pleasure and pain blended together, many of the casualties screamed in ecstasy as the high-tech shurikens tore gashes in their flesh and scythed off limbs. One of the heavier Grav Platforms stationed further behind Eldar lines rang out, and a monofilament mesh descended upon the charging mob, dicing dozens and mutilating dozens more. The defenders wrinkled their nose in disgust as many of the victims died with rictus grins of incomprehensible pleasure on their faces.

* * *

Edelion squeezed his Shuriken Catapult's trigger as fast as his physiology and the weapon's design would allow, hardly bothering with aiming. The advancing horde was so dense that any shot in the general direction would hit something. One of the cultists fell, his legs cut off below the knees. Rather than scream and thrash in pain, the man looked up with a leering grin.

"Again!" he begged, a trail of spittle running from the corner of his mouth.

The Guardian granted the cultist's wish, putting a shuriken right into the man's face. A grin began forming as his head slid apart.

"Incoming!"

Edelion barely threw himself to the ground in time as the next volley of shells slammed into the ground around him. A nearby explosion tossed several Guardians and parts of Guardians high into the air, and many surrounding Eldar nearly collapsed as the screams of damned souls echoed through the Warp. Though heavy, the incoming bombardment had lessened somewhat, the repeated flanking attacks by friendly armor taking their toll.

"They're coming over the trench!"

The Guardian looked up just in time to see a cultist of indeterminate gender vaulting over the barricade. Edelion threw himself against the back wall and fired upwards three times. Two halves of cultist, sliced from crotch to crown, hit the wall with a wet _smack_. Another cultist slipped on the rapidly-expanding pool of blood. A neighboring Guardian, without a hint of hesitation, stepped forward and planted his foot onto the cultist's chest. Another cultist grabbed the Eldar from behind as he prepared to deliver the killing blow. The two struggled for several moments before the Guardian slumped down, a knife buried in the gap between mesh armor and helmet.

With a savage cry, Edelion rushed forward and slammed the butt of his Catapult into the man's stomach. As he staggered backwards, the Eldar soldier cracked him across the face with the butt of his weapon. With a wet _crack_, his head spun far further than any human neck would allow and the cultist fell over, dead. As the first cultist staggered onto all fours, Edelion planted a foot in the center of his back and stomped down, breaking the man's spine with an audible _crack_.

"More!" the cultist screamed.

Edelion stomped his opponent again, this time crushing his skull. The Guardian whirled around as a lasbolt splashed off his armor. He saw stars the next moment as a traitor Guardsman—the lack of iconography marking him as a recent convert—hit him across the face with a lasgun butt. The Eldar soldier staggered back, his ears ringing, and barely managed to bring his own weapon up in time to block the Guardsman's downward swing. The Catapult's internals were irrevocably shattered by the impact, but Edelion found a wrecked weapon far preferable to a dashed skull any day. His vision still swimming, the Guardian stood little chance as the Guardsman suddenly let go of his lasrifle and looped his hands around Edelion's neck. The Guardian's faceplate shattered as it impacted the Guardsman's knee.

Edelion blinked rapidly to clear his vision, barely recovering in time to grab the Guardsman's forearm as the knife plunged downwards. The blade slowly drew closer to the Eldar's now-exposed face and even drew blood as it nicked his cheek. That was about as far as Edelion's opponent got before a chainsword from behind severed his spine. A second swing decapitated the human. The head flew away, smacking into the side of the trench before hitting the ground and rolling away. The corpse stayed standing for a moment longer, even taking a staggering step backwards, before collapsing, revealing Edelion's savior. The Storm Guardian seized him around the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

"This trench is lost! Fall back!"

* * *

**Skies Above 10th OPAW Drop Point  
Craftworld Altansar**

"Attention all units: we have cleared the upper atmosphere. Prepare for descent."

The opaque red glow gradually faded back to a transparent light pink haze before disappearing entirely. The heat shields separated from the Knightmares with a _thunk_ and fell away as the troopers finally moved from re-entry position. In rapid succession, they uncrossed their arms and opened their legs, spreading their limbs wide as they flipped themselves over. The freefall became a gliding descent, the OPAW troopers subtly adjusting their body positions to bleed off velocity as they dipped lower and lower into the atmosphere.

"Deploy energy wings on my mark. Mark!"

The burst of green light as a hundred and twenty pairs of energy wings deployed and activated at once was visible even from the ground. The Knightmares hovered in midair for a moment before taking off towards their landing zone at high speed. As they flew, the squad leaders used the time to adjust their formations—some drift inevitably occurred during atmospheric reentry—and to ensure everyone had actually made it through the atmosphere unscathed.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

The Warp storms summoned by Fulgrim's forces wrecked utter havoc amongst the Eldar defenders. The shockwave had outright killed many, delivering their souls straight into the maw of She Who Thirsts, while many others collapsed as their psychic abilities turned against them. Many more went insane and began attacking their fellow Eldar. The disturbed Warp currents disabled many of the Eldar's electronics and sensors, crippling their space fleet and many of their vehicles. Other dangers were more direct: spontaneously-appearing shoal zones and Warp lightning strikes exacted a fearsome toll from the survivors.

None of the aforementioned dangers compared to the daemons. The Warp storms and the dark rituals that brought them forth weakened the veil of reality, tearing it in many places, and allowed all manner of horrors to flood through. Ravenous Warp-beasts rampaged through Altansar unchecked, and innumerable servants of The Great Enemy flooded through hoping to bring back Eldar souls and curry their master's favor.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The Guardian frantically struggled to no avail against the Daemonette's viselike grip around her ankle. Ilhiec managed to flip around onto her stomach and dug her fingers into Altansar's soil, slowing her kidnapper's walk towards the Warp rift. Several of her squadmates took aim and fired, but their efforts were severely hampered by the desire to not hit her. Many shurikens uselessly buried themselves into the ground, though several tore deep gashes in the creature's upper arm. Apparently catching on, several other Guardians contributed their firepower.

The Daemonette thrashed and screeched in agony—or perhaps ecstasy—as its arm finally separated from its body and fell to the ground. Purple blood dripped onto Ilhiec's armor, but she was beyond caring at that point. She scrambled onto her feet and half-sprinted, half-stumbled back towards friendly lines. Her escape came to a premature end as a second Daemonette phased into existence behind her and grabbed her.

Ilheic screamed in horror as the Daemonette stepped forward and opened a Warp rift. Her vision swam as waves of sensation—pleasure and pain dialed up to mind-melting levels—rolled out of the tear in reality. Ilheic dug her fingers deeper into the ground, but all she accomplished was leaving deeper grooves in the dirt. Blood-curdling screams echoed from the trenches as all manner of unnatural beasts descended on the soldiers within. Daemonettes dragged many into the Warp, and the Guardian squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to shut out the screams of the condemned Eldar. Ravenous Warp predators pounced on others, rows of razor-sharp teeth tearing through mesh armor to reach the flesh within.

"Oh, Master will show you so many new things!" the Daemonette giggled.

The sanity-blasting sound was abruptly cut short as a shadow blindsided the creature, knocking it over and shattering whatever passed for its ribcage upon landing. The Daemonette writhed in a mixture of pain and pleasure as the new arrival aimed its weapon downwards. A faint _bdew bdew_ reached Ilheic's ears, and the daemon ceased moving. A long shadow fell over the Guardian, allowing the shaken but grateful Eldar to get a good look at her savior.

The new arrival wasn't awfully tall: Ilheic could see that he would stand up to her shoulders if they both stood at full height. However, he wore a menacing suit of battle armor that greatly enhanced his presence. The Guardian could swear she saw the armor's colors subtly shifting with its surroundings, but she dismissed it as her imagination. Every line was angular and aggressive, the limbs somewhat lanky but still proportionate with his body. Ilheic could only guess as to the function of the two rectangular structures on the legs: they were attached only at the outer edges of the feet, but extended up to the suit's knees. The shin guards extended past the knees, topped off with a wicked-looking spike. Ilheic reckoned the two kite-shaped pods hung from the suit's hips were meant for storage: the top looked like it opened up, and the bottom tip looked like it could split apart. The waist seemed almost too thin compared to the rest of the suit, especially compared to the flared-out torso, which gradually blended into two wing-like structures currently folded tightly against its back. A roughly rectangular pod hung onto the lower torso, and Ilheic could not discern any method of attachment. Two blade-like protrusions extended from each shoulder, but their purpose appeared merely aesthetic. The forearm guards flared beyond the shoulders to the upper arms, and Ilheic noticed sword handles poking out from the inner wrists. Three swept-back spikes flared out from the head, one from the scalp and two smaller ones from each cheek, and two blade-like protrusions extended from the temples. Ilheic nearly overlooked the eyes, which were sunken into a slit on the lower half of the head.

"Who are you?" Ilheic croaked out.

"Sergeant Matthew Reller, 10th Orbital Planetary Assault Wing," her rescuer replied in a slightly tinny voice as he helped her stand up, "Are you all right?"

* * *

The remaining Eldar in the trenches could only watch in badly-concealed amazement as the one hundred twenty troopers of 10th OPAW rapidly cleared out the area. Meson bursts flooded the forward trenches, vaporizing cultists and daemons alike with frightening ease. Others slid along the soil seemingly by sorcery, circling the Chaos forces and spraying crimson bolts of energy into the hordes. Given only the barest minimum of armor, if any at all, the cultists were felled by the dozens. Still others darted between the wreckage of armored vehicles littering the no man's land, rushing to aid the few surviving Eldar tanks. The soldiers clambered atop the Leman Russ tanks and opened fire, their weapons easily piercing the tanks' thin top armor and slaughtering the crew. A few hefted nondescript weapons that proved deadly effective against the Chaos armor: a breeze, a flash of pink, and a Leman Russ was gone, along with a portion of the ground it rested on.

"Don't let them regroup! Keep up the pressure!"

With agility unexpected for such a bulky Knightmare, the Guren-Seraph leapt into the air without the assistance for its gravitric impellers. Nearby, a Cherub's hadron bolts pierced the flank of a Leman Russ tank and cooked off its ammunition, blowing its turret out of its mounting ring and sending it flying. Kallen spun in midair and used the airborne turret as a springboard to propel herself forward. Dozens of lasbolts harmlessly splashed off the Guren's hadron fields, the incoming fire quickly slacking off as Kallen began her descent. Dozens of enemy soldiers threw down their weapons in panic and fled as the Knightmare landed on a Leman Russ tank, crushing it with sheer force of five-fingered claw that replaced the Guren's right hand glowed red as Kallen sliced through the battle tank's armor like so much tissue paper. She threw herself off the tank as a neighboring Leman Russ' turret rotated to face her. Rolling off to the side then launching herself forward, Kallen crashed into the tank's vulnerable flank, leaving a visible dent in the armor. A sharp-eyed OPAW trooper sniped the shotgun-armed crewman clambering through the hatcher as Kallen slammed her palm against the Leman Russ and activated the Guren's signature weapon. The tank rapidly bubbled and inflated before exploding, the shrapnel shredding nearby cultists and peppering neighboring tanks.

"Who's next?" Kallen asked nobody in particular as she turned around, right hand still aglow.

The reddish glow surrounding the Guren's Radiant Wave Surger suddenly grew in size, creeping up its arm unit it encompassed the entire limb. With a fierce roar, Kallen unleashed a massive blast that temporarily blinded many onlookers and engulfed the bulk of the Chaos forces. Promethium tanks went up like melta bombs, lasgun charge packs cooked off, and ammunition racks detonated. Anyone caught within quickly swelled up and burst, showering their neighbors with gore. Those caught in the outskirts of the blast fared little better: many cultists screamed as their clothes, hair, and skin were set alight by the heat. Leman Russ tanks ground to a halt, their engines overheating and even melting. Hatches were fused shut, condemning those within to a slow death by being cooked alive.

The blast slowly faded, leaving a desolated wasteland behind. The few survivors threw down their weapons and fled. The soldiers of the 10th OPAW combed the battlefield, mopping up enemy stragglers and recovering the Eldar dead. Dead and dying servants of Chaos had the nasty tendency to spontaneously become portals for daemons, so the enemy wounded were methodically executed and the dead shot again just in case. The Eldar defenders watched the proceedings with caution for several moments before slowly climbing out of their trenches to join the Black Knights. As her subordinates set about their grim task, Kallen made a beeline for a Dire Avenger that seemed to be calling the shots.

"The Crystal Seers spoke of your arrival," the Aspect Warrior greeted, skipping straight to the straight to the point of the matter, "The Seer Council has already been informed, and they marshal Altansar's remaining forces as we speak."

"Then there is little need for further conversation," Kallen replied, "Now the counterattack begins."

* * *

**A/N:** And there we go! The Craftworld Invasion arc will probably be the longest arc yet, spanning at least six to eight chapters, including this one and the previous one. Lots of brutal combat, huge battles, Kallen action, and maybe a few surprises. I hope it'll live up to your expectations! Anyhow, the last of the info-dump omakes!

* * *

**Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Ten: Foreign Relations**

As secrecy is their greatest asset, the Black Knights tend to avoid contact with the other civilizations of the galaxy. They engage their enemies in secrecy and utterly annihilate every bit of evidence as to their involvement afterwards. Only in times of great need would they considering forming alliances.

_Chaos:_ The Black Knights have waged an on-again-off-again guerilla war against the followers of Chaos for millennia. Invisible to the Ruinous Powers, Black Knights assault troopers sow great confusion amongst the enemy without fail. Even as early as the Age of Strife, task forces lurked in the shadows, annihilating Chaos cults and disrupting their rituals. Occasionally, the Fleet will risk discovery and assemble enough fighting strength to strike at excommunicated Forge Worlds and other vital supply hubs. On a handful of occasions, hundreds of Psychic Special Warfare operatives quietly disappear at once, and many never return. Though records are tightly sealed, rumor persists that the missing operatives embarked on missions to Daemon Worlds, or even the Eye of Terror itself. This policy of containment began failing as time marched on and was abandoned completely as the Despoiler's armies slowly overran the galaxy. As the Imperium's armies began a long retreat to Terra, the Black Knights recalled their forces and headed for the birthplace of humanity.

_Dark Eldar: _The Black Knights generally avoid areas known for heavy Dark Eldar activity. Little contact has been made beyond occasional clashes with pirate fleets and mercenary bands, and such conflicts usually end fairly quickly. Whenever such a clash occurs, the Special Forces Division immediately shifts into damage-control mode. Through intercepted communications, planted intelligence, and false-flag operations, they provoke the involved Kabal's enemies into attacking it. When all else fails, elite Raider teams infiltrate Commorragh itself and assassinate particularly troublesome Archons and Hierarchs. Such operations are meticulously timed to coincide with inter-Kabalite conflicts, either a pre-existing one or one especially manufactured to mask the Raiders' movements. Such a course of action is considered the most extreme of last resorts, having occurred only a half-dozen times since first contact with the Dark Eldar.

_Craftworld Eldar:_ Like their Dark cousins, the Craftworld Eldar have only had sporadic contact with the Fleet. Throughout history, the Black Knights and Eldar militaries have indirectly allied with one another, having been sent to aid the same side in the same conflict. The vast majority of such conflicts end with both forces returning home without ever having encountered one another. As the Despoiler's innumerable hordes slowly conquer the Milky Way, such indirect alliances become increasingly common, and some war hosts inevitably detect their shadowy allies. However, the Black Knights forces are usually reported as sent from one of many minor Craftworlds that fell off the grid since the Fall of the Eldar. Only in the most desperate circumstances is a formal alliance considered, and such alliances dissolve just as quickly as they form. For reasons known only to the Eldar, they have not seen any reason to disclose the Black Knights' existence to anyone else.

_Imperium of Man:_ The Black Knights are best described as the Imperium's fifty-first millenium equivalent of UFOs. Imperial forces have sighted the Fleet's warships before, and have even occasionally recovered artifacts emblazoned with the Black Knights' distinctive insignia. The Ordos Xenos diligently tracks these sightings but remains divided as to their identity. Some believe the Black Knights are previously-unknown Necron military forces, while others argue they are an entirely new alien species. Inquisitorial ships have sighted the _Ikaruga_ before, but only for brief moments and at enormous distances, leading to the station's classification as an Eldar Craftworld. Besides safeguarding the final STC, the Black Knights took up the mantle of humanity's hidden protector. Roving the cosmos, the Fleet clashed with fearsome xeno empires and left choice bits of STC data for the Imperium's forces to find. Such efforts were not always successful: the device planted on Verdigris IX, for example, was lost when the Mechanicum began rapidly industrializing the world. Upon rediscovery, it was stolen by the Orks and in turn stolen by the Dark Eldar.

_Necrons: _In addition to hundreds of minor skirmishes and campaigns, the Black Knights have fought three full-scale wars against the Necron dynasties, each more brutal than the last. Such conflicts inevitably devolve into bloody stalemates: the Black Knights do no possess the numbers and firepower required to directly assault Necron Crownworlds, and the Necron legions' crushing numbers lack the mobility to effectively pursue the Black Knights. As of the fifty-first millennium, the Necrons remain the only ones to have fired upon the _Ikaruga_ and to have destroyed a Yggdrasil-class dreadnought in combat. The First Necrotic War, fought against the Nihilakh Dynasty, only ended when a number of Raider teams sacrificed themselves to take down several Overlords, allowing the Fleet to escape in the confusion. The Second Necrotic War, against the Ogdobekh Dynasty, ended with both sides mutually withdrawing from the battlefield. The third, and most recent, Necrotic War pitted the Black Knights against a sizable harvest fleet from an as-of-yet-unidentified dynasty, though intelligence officials believe it was either the Sautekh or Oruscar Dynasties, and ended with the harvest fleet's annihilation.

_Orks: _Remember all too well the horrors of M32's annihilation war between the Imperium and the Beast, the Black Knights avoid contact with the Ork empires whenever possible. When confronted with a Waaagh!, standing orders are to avoid engagement and lure the enemy towards a neighboring Ork empire if at all possible. The strategy has thus far proven quite successful, and any pursuers quickly forget the Black Knights in favor of the fight before them. If no nearby Ork empire is available, painting another Warboss's symbol onto a few asteroids and crashing them into their pursuer's ships and planets proves quite effective. A roving Ork Waaagh! once stumbled upon the _Ikaruga_, but the sheer ferocity of the surrounding fleet's defense lead them to believe the Black Knights' home was a Necron construct.

_Tau:_ As one of the newest races on the galactic scene, the Tau have not yet encountered the Black Knights. All forays into Tau-occupied space ended in failure, culminating in the infamous "Lost Expedition," launched late into the Time of Dying. Shortly after the fleet reached its destination, a massive Warp storm engulfed the remnants of the Tau Empire. Every ship in the task force, among them a pair of Trundholm-class cruisers, is officially listed as "MIA."

_Tyranids: _The only major conflict between the Black Knights and the Tyranids occurred in the middle of M46. Picket ships stationed in the galactic fringe detected the approach of a major Hive Fleet. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact that Abaddon's Fourteenth Black Crusade was in full swing, the Black Knights set out to intercept it. Several battle fleets assembled beyond the edge of the galaxy, safe from all prying eyes. While hit-and-run attacks drew away the escorts, General Kozuki lead OPAW units in infiltrating and destroying select Hive Ships. As the Hive Fleet reeled in confusion, the main force attacked. Though the Hive Fleet was shattered before reaching the Milky Way, the Black Knights still occasionally engage and destroy splinters of the fleet. The latest of these campaigns took place mere months before the Third Necrotic War and once again saw Kallen leading assaults on enemy Hive Ships.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The Counterattack

**Disclaimer: **This _Code Geass_ thing? Yeah...I don't own it. Same with this _Warhammer 40k_ thing...

**A/N:** In response to eman's review: closer to four or five meters, I'd say. Either that, or Britannian MBTs are enormous. Either way, Knightmares in the Geassverse can't exist in the current state of the _50k_-verse, if only because Earth's Sakuradite supply has run out long ago.

As to Heir of Empires: don't worry. The cameo's coming soon. Very soon. ^-^

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: The Counterattack**

As the fleet around Altansar faltered, the skies over the Craftworld played host to an endless, macabre meteor shower as heavily-damaged ships tumbled into the atmosphere and broke apart. Eldar anti-aircraft batteries blazed away around the clock in a futile effort to stem the seemingly-endless flood of Chaos drop pods and transports. Though the one hundred twenty troopers of the 10th Orbital Planetary Assault Wing fought ferociously, their presence wasn't even a blip on the radar compared to the crushing might of Fulgrim's armies. Every battlefield where they showed up to turn the tides was matched by a dozen positions overrun by the enemy.

At the same time, news of the 10th OPAW's exploits spread quickly. If for nothing else than determination to not be outdone by a bunch of mon-keigh, the Eldar defenders fought even harder, even gaining ground in some places. Though much blood was exchanged for every square meter of ground recaptured, the counterattack had begun.

* * *

**Outskirts of Castrinaia, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51, Day Three of the Siege of Altansar**

Though she had once fought in the Corpse-Emperor's name, Delo's soul now belonged entirely to the Prince of Pleasure. Once a member of the Imperial Guard, she had betrayed the survivors of her regiment and deliberately led them into an ambush. A most delicious sensation flooded her body whenever she thought back to that day. She could still see the looks of betrayal on their faces as she knelt before a Traitor Marine of the Angels of Ecstasy warband, the right side of her torso bared to display the mark of Slaanesh carved into her flesh. She had little doubt that some of the mind-meltingly potent combat stims given to her were sourced from her former comrades' bodies, and she had even participated in torturing several of them to death.

In the few years since, she had risen from a favored slave of the Angels of Ecstasy to the leader of her own warband, the Eternal Host. She had plundered dozens of worlds in the Prince of Pleasure's name, and her ruthlessness in battle—matched only by her successes—attracted a great many followers. The Eternal Host swelled in size as it absorbed new converts and smaller warbands alike, all united in their search for new sensations and pleasures.

As she surveyed the hordes before her, Delo stopped to inhale deeply. So intense were the sensations shown to her by the Angels of Ecstasy that only a constant supply of ever-stronger stimulants, pumped into her facemask from a tank on her back, could give her even the slightest pleasure.

"Charge! A double dosage of stims to the first one to bring me an enemy's head!"

Even the promise of such a meager reward proved enough to send the forward ranks trampling over one another in a mad race to reach the enemy lines. She wouldn't send in the elite core of her warband, most of them Imperial Guard traitors like herself, just yet. Better let the new blood soak up some of the defenders' ammunition first.

* * *

"Incoming! Get ready!"

Chaos Basilisk artillery had pounded Castrinaia day and night in an attempt to flush out the Eldar, but the defenders had dug in deep. The relentless bombardment leveled many of the city's thin, graceful spires and cratered its wide streets, and the Bonesingers used what little remained as raw material to construct fortifications. Wraithbone barricades reinforced with dirt sprang up virtually overnight in preparation for the Chaos attack. Hundreds of Guardians stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the shallow trenches behind the barricades, Shuriken Catapults at the ready. The ground beneath their feet rumbled as thousands of cultists charged over the hill and into the city's main avenue.

"Steady…steady…hold your fire…"

A Dire Avenger Exarch by the name of Anduah had taken personal responsibility for the defense of Castrinaia, vowing that not a single meter of its streets would fall into Chaos hands so long as she drew breath. Though the Guardians unquestioningly obeyed the Exarch, many shifted around nervously. Sheer momentum carried the enemy horde forward, and those who ran too slow or stumbled were simply trampled underfoot.

Anduah could barely suppress her disgust as she peered at the horde through binoculars. Many of the cultists were dressed in little more than rags, though a resourceful few had scavenged bits of armor. A few bared the right sides of their chests, a curious habit specific to the followers of She Who Is Not Named. She could spot a few lasguns and autoguns in the crowd, but the vast majority made do with melee weapons. A lucky few wielded blades and chain weapons, but the vast majority were armed with little more than wooden rods with metal spikes driven through them. The screaming and slobbering horde reached the city limits, the streets funneling them into the brunt of the Eldar defenses.

"Fire!" Anduah screeched, drawing her second Avenger Catapult and unloading into the oncoming swarm.

The Guardians and Dire Avengers unleashed a disciplined volley of shurikens that devastated the enemy's forward ranks. So tightly packed was the horde that each disc would pierce a cultist and then several more behind. The casualties not trampled underfoot continued the charge, their corpses driven forward by the press of bodies behind them. Support Weapon Batteries entrenched in the city's central pavilion joined the second volley, ripping enormous gaps into the enemy formation. Monofilament webs rained down from above, slicing off limbs and dicing a dozen enemy soldiers at a time. The cultists' desire for a double dosage of combat stims overrode their already-limited survival instinct, and they continued charging rather than seek shelter from the horrific weapons. A salvo of missiles came down next, each leaving a crater and a shower of body parts wherever it landed.

Gaps in the enemy formation were filled in just as quickly as they appeared. Corpses carried forward by the horde's momentum absorbed Eldar shurikens, allowing the combat stim-frenzied cultists to slowly inch towards the Eldar barricades. The few lucky enough to possess firearms began firing wildly, many of their shots impacting uselessly against the fortifications. Occasionally, a Guardian would stagger back, his or her mesh armor dissipating the force of the hit. Anduah could only watch as one of the defenders fell to his knees, gurgling and clutching his neck, as a autogun round bounced off the rim of the barricade and into the gap between his helmet and mesh armor. He bled out before his comrades could help him. Several Guardians rushed forward from the rear trenches, one taking the fallen warrior's place in the line and the others dragging his body away.

* * *

**Outskirts of Castrinaia  
Twelve Hours Later**

Though the forces of the Eternal Host attacked in great numbers, the Eldar defenses around Castinaia held. The press of bodies had overwhelmed the volume of defensive fire several times and the followers of Chaos scrambled over the barricades. The forward positions devolved into bloody close-quarters combat, and hundreds of Guardians rushed up from the trenches to shore up the defenses. Casualties always proved heavy, but the line held.

The Chaos horde had broken several times, and the Eldar utilized the precious reprieves to the fullest. Bodies were collected and soulstones gathered. Medics made their rounds. Weapons were allowed to cool and ammunition stocks were replenished. The Guardians took the time to meditate and revitalize their exhausted bodies. The lulls were shattered all too soon by renewed Chaos assaults. Each wave of cultists grew steadily better-equipped and more grotesquely mutated.

* * *

"_Ceifulgaithann_, form up!"

A low whine echoed throughout the city streets as Guardian Jetbike Squadrons emerged from their hiding places in the rear trenches. They slowly poured in from the side roads, assembling at the center of Castrinaia's main avenue and wordlessly forming up. Three squadrons of a dozen Guardians each formed up into a lightly-armored spearhead spanning the width of the street, with a trio of Shining Spears forming the very tip.

"Ready!"

The Guardians revved up their engines, and the Shining Spears lowered their Laser Lances.

"Charge! _Mael danaan!_"

* * *

Ulneer, an Aspect Warrior of the Shining Spears, leaned forward in his seat and opened the throttle. The jetbike shot forward, seemingly on a collision course with the forward barricades. To their credit, the Guardians appeared unfazed, their disciplined volleys never faltering even as apparent doom drew ever closer. At the last moment, a wraithbone ramp rose out of the streets, launching Ulneer, his fellow Shining Spears, and the three dozen Guardians with them into the air. Several Guardians paused to look up as the jetbikes barely cleared their heads, and the shuriken volleys stopped in fear of hitting their own.

Where the repeated shuriken volleys failed, the jetbikes succeeded. The swarm screeched to a halt, trampling the forward ranks as they came to a stop. Cultists clawed over one another in an attempt to reach safety, but wraithbone barriers sprang up to block the back alleys. A storm of shurikens ripped through the panicked horde, opening a path for the jetbikes as they descended upon the enemy. As he drew close enough to count individual cultists, Ulneer leaned ever further forward, his Laser Lance charged and at the ready.

A few random executions by the higher-ranked cultists managed to restore order, and the horde began counterattacking. Autogun rounds and lasbolts bounced off of Ulneer's armor as he incinerated several cultists with his weapon. One of the Guardians behind him wasn't so lucky, and the force of impact threw him off his jetbike. The vehicle spun out of control, crushing many cultists before skidding to a stop. The Guardian was quickly swallowed up by the Slaaneshi mob, and his screams as he was savagely mauled to death rang in Ulneer's ears. The screams continued in the Aspect Warrior's head as the Guardian's soul was dragged into the realm of The Great Serpent. Another Guardian subtly shifted into position, emerging from the center of the spearhead to take his fallen comrade's place.

At such close ranges, each shuriken fired tore through a dozen cultists, and the few who survived were promptly crushed by the jetbikes. The revving of chainswords filled the streets as Guardians hacked at the hands that reached out to grab them. Several were dragged out of their seats and into the sea of bodies. Ulneer did his best to ignore the screams as cultists beat and hacked them to death then crushed their soulstones. Through sheer weight of numbers, the enemy slowly whittled the attackers down.

Ulneer fired his Laser Lance as fast as its capacitors cycled, but the still-living bodies impaled upon its tip made the weapon increasingly difficult to aim. The Shining Spear briefly removed his hands from the jetbike controls to grab and snap an arm reaching out for him. The cultist screamed in a mixture of ecstasy and agony. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Ulneer snapped his neck with a second blow.

The jetbike squadron could no longer maintain the tightly-packed spearhead, and the survivors drifted further and further apart. Without their comrades protecting their flanks, the Guardian jetbike riders suffered heavily. The barricades began firing again, the hundreds of bodies separating the riders from friendly lines also shielding them from Eldar shurikens. Their backs turned to focus on the fast attackers, the horde was slow in reacting to the renewed attack, and the defenders enthusiastically repaid their comrades' sacrifice with enemy blood.

As the horde began thinning, Ulneer's lance finally became too heavily-laden for him to aim effectively. He tossed the weapon aside, smashing any cultists caught within the lance's wide swing arc. Shredding the cultists before him with his jetbike's dual Shuriken Catapults, Ulneer could finally see the desolate no man's land beyond Castrinaia's edge.

The survivors of the attack, consisting of Ulneer and a handful of Guardians, roared through the gap into the open terrain beyond. Elation and triumph turned to horror as hundreds more cultists, much better-armed and –equipped than the horde they had just survived, appeared over the hill and began raining lasbolts and, to Ulneer's horror, shurikens, down onto the riders. The very thought of such profane hands touching such an elegant weapon filled the survivors with rage, and they pushed themselves past their injuries and exhaustion to charge the hill.

One by one, the remaining Guardians fell, some knocked off their jetbikes and others killed outright. The survivors drew their chainswords and, with a battle cry, continued charging up the hill. The sheer volume of enemy fire mowed them all down within a few steps. The sight of a nearby Guardian decapitated by a stolen shuriken weapon added to Ulneer's rage, and he leaned forward slightly to squeeze even a tiny amount of extra speed from his vehicle. A lucky lasbolt glanced off the Shining Spear's helmet, sending him tumbling from his jetbike.

As the second wave of Slaaneshi cultists closed in, Ulneer grabbed a chainsword from a nearby Guardian's corpse and charged. He slashed and stabbed in every direction, slicing off limbs and heads, as the horde engulfed him. A lasgun butt to the back of the head made Ulneer's vision swim, and the Shining Spear staggered. In an instant, the cultists piled onto him, raining blows down on him as he struggled to stand up. Even as his bones shattered under the vicious assault, Ulneer continued swinging his chainsword, slicing ankles and Achilles' tendons.

The last sight he saw before dying was a dark blur descending from the skies.

* * *

"Keep it up! Don't let them regroup!"

Several cultists became Private Kelly Racicot's unwilling cushions as her Knightmare slammed into the ground. Paying little attention to the guts and brain matter caked onto her feet, the OPAW trooper ejected two of her hadron sabers from their wrist-mounted scabbards and thumbed the activation switch. The weapons hummed to life, vibrating almost imperceptibly as internal particle accelerators created the crimson red blades. With speed that came only with extensive training and experience, she whirled the blades around her body in intricate patterns, absorbing the incoming autogun rounds and lasbolts.

Dropping their landspinners to the ground, Kelly and her squadmates leaned forward and charged the enemy. Still knocked off-balanced by the OPAW team's sudden appearance, the soldiers of the Eternal Host put up only scattered resistance as the deadly blades sliced them to ribbons. Lasbolts and autogun rounds simply bounced off the Knightmares, while shurikens managed to gouge their armor but failed to penetrate.

Kelly spun the blades around in her hands into a reverse grip and bought them forward in a scissoring motion, slicing apart half a dozen cultists to her front and sides. As more closed in, she snapped the blades back outwards, decapitating them. Several of the Eternal Host managed to overcome their shock and form a firing line, and a volley of lasbolts slammed into Racicot's chest. She staggered slightly but recovered within a second, slicing up the soldiers who had moved in to exploit the opportunity. The Private leaned forward slightly, squeezing just a bit more speed out of her landspinners, as the firing line aimed their second volley. One of Kelly's comrades staggered and fell over, the cultists piling on top of him before he could recover.

"We'll take care of him! Get that firing line off our backs!"

Kelly's two companions peeled away at blistering speed, drifting their Knightmares as they turned around to aid their fallen ally. Racicot urged every bit of speed she could out of her Cherub as the enemy lined up another volley. Aided by her Knightmare and by adrenaline, the Private leapt up into the air, sailing over the volley of crimson bolts. The soldiers in the firing line paused, craning their necks to follow the airborne OPAW trooper as she cartwheeled in midair and slammed into the ground behind them. The resulting shockwave caused several of the enemy to stumble, and Kelly was on top of them in a heartbeat.

Spinning her blades back around into a forward grip, Kelly decapitated half the members of the firing line in a broad sweep. She stabbed another as he fired, the lasbolt drilling through the outer layers of her armor but ultimately failing to penetrate even at such close range. A battle cry from behind alerted the trooper, and she whirled around just in time to take off another soldier's head with a vicious roundhouse kick. The headless corpse continued its lunge, driving its bayonet into Kelly's stomach. The tip of the blade pierced her Cherub's outer shell and carved a shallow gouge several centimeters in length before snapping in two. Racicot stumbled from the force of impact, dropping one of her hadron sabers, and the enemy was quick to exploit the opportunity.

Kelly planted her foot, stabilizing herself, when the shrill beeping of her sensor suite's proximity warning filled her ears. A powerful back kick caved in the rib cage of the soldier charging her from behind and sent his body flying backwards. Straightening back up, she threw her remaining hadron saber at the cultist charging her from the front. The blade spun through the air and neatly bisected him. Spotting another enemy bull-rushing her, Kelly dove into a roll, retrieving her hadron saber as she tumbled and slicing off the cultist's legs below the knee. Standing back up, she finished off her crippled opponent by driving her blade through his torso and into the ground.

After briefly analyzing his chances against the whirlwind of death that was Private Kelly Racicot, the final cultist threw down his lasgun and ran. The OPAW trooper whirled around and launched a slash harken at him. The high-speed mass of rutalium carbide and hadron field burst through the cultist's torso with a shower of gore. As Kelly reeled the deadly projectile back in, her opponent stared wide-eyed at the hole in his chest for several seconds before collapsing face-down into the ground.

The whole scuffle had lasted less than a minute.

"Enemy reinforcements incoming!"

A high-pitched whistling sound reached Kelly's ears a fraction of a second before a battle cannon shell landed barely a meter away. The explosion obscured her vision with flying dirt, riddled her armor with shrapnel, and scorched off her Knightmare's paint. Not even rutalium carbide could protect her from the concussive shockwave that followed: the force of impact forced the air from Racicot's lungs and launched her into the air. The OPAW trooper flew several meters before hitting the ground and slid several more before finally coming to a stop.

* * *

"Those tanks are going to tear us apart!"

"Keep calm, trooper, and keep firing!"

Unable to actually track the fast-moving OPAW troopers, the enemy armor simply saturated the no man's land with shellfire. Forced into twisting evasive maneuvers, the Black Knights' accuracy suffered greatly. Most weapons fire slammed uselessly against the earthen ridge the tanks had lined up on, though occasionally a lucky hadron bolt would set off an ammunition rack or a well-timed FLEIJA warhead would vaporize a tank. The Chaos forces would simply shove the wreckage out of the way, and another tank would take the destroyed one's place.

* * *

Bruised and battered but otherwise miraculously unharmed, Kelly Racicot gingerly picked herself up off the ground and made several futile efforts to locate her missing weapons. The shockwave had torn her light hadron machine gun from its mounting lugs, and she had dropped her hadron sabers at some point mid-flight. She never found her sabers, but she did eventually locate her machine gun a small distance away. A shell fragment had punched straight through the weapon's thin skin, severing vital circuitry and rendering it useless. Her ears ringing and head pounding, she made several unsuccessful attempts to claw her way up the sides of the impact crater. The OPAW trooper finally succeeded after her fifth attempt and plopped, exhausted, onto the ground. Her breathing gradually slowed, and she dazedly sat up and slowly took in her surroundings.

"Move, trooper! Keep moving if you want to live!" her sergeant barked, snapping her back to reality.

Kelly shakily stood up, supported almost entirely by her Knightmare's leg servos. Her hard-won efforts were wasted as one of her squadmates blindsided her. The two troopers tumbled several meters before collapsing in a heap of limbs. Any annoyance Racicot felt regarding the collision instantly evaporated as a shell landed right where she stood moments before.

Jumping to her feet, Kelly drew her FLEIJA launcher and hurriedly checked it over. Breathing a sigh of relief that it showed no visible signs of damage, the OPAW trooper unfolded the weapon and slung it over her shoulder. The trooper who had tackled her out of the shell's path shakily stood up and shook his head vigorously—most likely to clear his vision—before re-shouldering his machine gun. Landspinners screeching, the two took off in separate directions.

* * *

Anduah surveyed the brief but intense battle at Castrinaia's outskirts with great interest. Though she would not deny that the soldiers of the 10th Orbital Planetary Assault Wing fought ferociously, the Exarch had privately doubted tales of them wading through hundreds of Chaos soldiers and emerging victorious. Seeing their nearly one-sided slaughter of the Eternal Host dispelled those doubts. However, even they could not stand alone against the horde of Chaos tanks and infantry now appearing over the horizon.

"Support batteries, open fire!"

As the first wave of missiles sailed overhead, Anduah thrust one of her Avenger Catapults into the air and addressed the Guardians around her.

"Let us show these mon-ke…these Black Knights…how Eldar fight!"

Castrinaia's Eldar defenders, weary but reinvigorated by the Exarch's words, voiced their approval with a deafening roar that echoed through the city streets. They sprinted through the streets and vaulted over the barricades, pouring out of the bombed-out city as a great wave of bodies. Grav tanks and War Walkers, having spent the battle waiting amongst the rubble for the perfect opportunity to strike, emerged from their hiding places and joined the charge.

* * *

**C's World  
The Warp**

Once again, hundreds of daemons clawed at the barriers surrounding perhaps the final stable pocket within the tormented Warp. Several threw themselves at the wards and were near-instantly destroyed by the sheer psychic power. The maddening chittering stopped as a gash formed in the fabric of the Immaterium and slowly widened. A lithe woman, her form cloaked in unimaginable psychic power, emerged from the portal. Even the greatest and most terrible of daemons stepped back, giving her and her companion a respectable amount of space. The great horde parted and scattered, allowing the two women a clear path into C's World.

"For now, my job is done," Euphemia suddenly spoke up as they crossed the threshold, "All that happens once he awakens is solely in your hands."

CC turned towards her pink-haired woman, a curious expression on her face.

"The battle that follows the Emperor's awakening is one in which I cannot intervene," the Guardian remarked, answering exactly none of the questions her statement raised, "For the time being, Lelouch must not know of me."

The green-haired immortal opened her mouth to retort, but Euphemia cut her off.

"The Time of Dying has ended. Now begins the Age of Redemption."

The Guardian seemed to move further and further away as she spoke. It took CC several seconds to realize she was the one actually moving, and that she was once again falling through the Warp.

* * *

**Outskirts of Castrinaia  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

The wave of Eldar bodies crashed and broke against the Eternal Host, and the battle devolved into a brutal close-range firefight. Cultists clambered atop grav tanks, and Eldar troops would climb up to sweep them off. Dozens of bodies piled against War Walkers, tipping and the bipedal war machines over and leaving it at the mercy of the crazed horde. Yet, meter by blood-soaked meter, the defenders of Castrinaia reclaimed Altansar's soil. The soldiers of the 10th OPAW forged ahead, forming an armored spearhead that plunged deep into the Chaos lines. As the Knightmares drew closer, Delo grew increasingly desperate.

"You outnumber them twenty to one! Kill them!" the traitorous Guardswoman screeched over the vox, "The first one to bring me one of their heads gets first pick from the prisoners!"

A flash of motion in the corner of her eye drew Delo's attention away from the battle. Her gaze flickered in every direction, yet she saw nobody else but her own bodyguards. Before she could dismiss it as a mere figment of her imagination, a bulky figure appeared in the extreme edge of her peripheral vision. Delo whirled around to face it, but she was greeted only by the sight of a burned-out Leman Russ tank. By the way they nervously fingered their weapons, her bodyguards seemed to have noticed something as well.

"You!" Delo motioned at the bodyguard closest to the hulk, "Check it out!"

Wordlessly, the man shouldered his lasgun and cautiously approached the wreck. He stopped several meters from the vehicle, weapon pointed wherever his eyes looked as he scanned the area. Satisfied, he crept around the hull and disappeared from sight.

"Toss a frag back there," Delo ordered when the bodyguard failed to reappear after several seconds, "If that doesn't kill whatever's back there, the two of you catch him in crossfire!"

"Roger! Frag out!"

The grenade exploded with a faint _whump_, and two of Delo's bodyguards stormed forward. The sound of lasgun shots filled the air for several seconds, then silence.

"Clear!" one announced after several tense moments.

The two Guardsmen emerged from behind the tank, one of them dragging the headless and shrapnel-ridden body of their comrade behind him. Delo's eyes grew wide as a dark line appeared on their uniforms, starting from the right armpit and travelling diagonally down to the waist. The pair of bodyguards managed several more steps before they paused and looked down at the steadily-growing blood stains on their flak armor. One managed to look up in shock before his body slid apart.

Delo whirled around to face her last remaining bodyguard just in time to receive a faceful of blood. Blinded by the spray, she staggered backwards and fell over. Wiping the blood from her eyes, Delo found herself almost nose-to-nose with her subordinate, a surprised expression permanently etched on his face. She noticed a second later that the rest of his body from neck down lay several meters away.

Delo snapped.

Springing to her feet, the leader of the Eternal Host drew her chainsword and swung at the empty air around her.

"Show yourself, you coward!" she shrieked, her expression wild and spittle flying from her mouth, "Where are you?"

"Right here," a deadly-calm voice announced from behind her.

With a roar of terror and rage, Delo whirled around and buried her chainsword into her attacker's shoulder. The color left her face as the strike did little against her opponent's armor except generate a shower of sparks. The man before her stood at least a head taller than her and wore armor of similar, though aesthetically much simpler, design to that of the OPAW troopers currently ripping through her warband. Fear stripped away the last of Delo's reason, and she took a wild swing at the armored titan.

He momentarily disappeared and reappeared approximately a meter away, well out of the range of Delo's swing. The top half of the chainsword cleanly separated from the rest of the blade, turning end-over-end through the air and hitting the Leman Russ hulk with a _clunk_. With an animalistic growl, Delo threw away her now-useless weapon and charged her opponent, bloodying her knuckles as she uselessly pounded her fists against his armor.

Delo was already too far lost in fear to notice her opponent's left hand slowly reaching and clamping around her head. Images of pure horror overwhelmed her mind, and she collapsed into a senseless heap on the ground.

The Psychic Special Warfare soldier nudged Delo's body with his foot to confirm she was actually down before opening a channel with the _Caerleon_.

"This is Operative Nathan. I've captured one of the enemy commanders. Requesting extract."

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah. Psychic Special Warfare operatives are kinda scary, aren't they? The Craftworld Invasion arc reaches its peak!


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The Soul of Altansar

**A/N: **Yes, this story is still alive and kicking! Real life just has a way of eating up most of my time.**  
**

**Disclaimer:** You should know by now that I don't own _Warhammer 40k_ or _Code Geass_.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: The Soul of Altansar**

Buoyed by the overwhelming victory at Castrinaia, millions of Eldar troops launched a massive counterattack all across the Chaos lines. Fighting with all the ferocity of animals cornered within their lairs, they paid their losses no mind and drove deep into enemy lines. So vicious was the counteroffensive that even Fulgrim's innumerable hordes were given pause. Fighting for their own homes, the defenders of Altansar abandoned all notion of fighting with grace or subtlety. The razor-sharp scalpel of Eldar military might transformed into a sledgehammer.

A massive artillery bombardment would precede each new Eldar thrust, pulverizing the deeply-entrenched Chaos forces and smashing their hastily-erected fortifications. Before the dust settled, wave after wave of Guardians and Aspect Warriors charged the enemy lines, using sheer weight of numbers to smash through and open the way for an armored assault. Trenches and city streets ran red with blood and brutal hand-to-hand combat reigned as the Eldar fought city by city, street by street, to liberate Altansar.

* * *

**Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51, Day Five of the Siege of Altansar**

Though her lungs burned from exertion and her legs screamed for rest, Ilheic continued her desperate sprint across the no man's land. Reinvigorated by a nearby shell impact that reduced several Guardians into bloody chunks of flesh and peppering her mesh armor with shrapnel, she hurtled down the last few meters to relative safety. As autogun rounds and lasbolts peppered the ground around her, the Guardian threw herself to the dirt and clawed her way forward. Panting heavily, she picked her exhausted body up and plopped against the plasteel tank trap.

"They've got heavy stubbers dug in just beyond that ridge! We're getting ripped apart!"

One of the few other Guardians fortunate enough to actually reach the fortifications sprang out of his hard-won cover and lobbed a plasma grenade. The tiny metal sphere arced through the air and bounced into one of the enemy's numerous heavy stubber nests. The crew scrambled over the sandbags, trampling one another in a desperate attempt to escape the blast. Some were incinerated outright, and the others fell down, screaming in agony as they futilely attempted to claw the burning starstuff off of their skin. More importantly, the short-lived miniature star melted the heavy stubber into a useless lump of metal. The Guardian had little time to celebrate his feat: the retaliatory fire shredded him.

"Rockets inbound!"

More of the Chaos defenses fell silent as Support Weapon Batteries hurled high-explosive death from far behind the front line. Tracers streaked overhead as the enemy artillery launched a counter-barrage of their own. The forces still rushing across no man's land took advantage of the lull to reach the safety of the tank traps that dotted the terrain before the Chaos trench. An ear-splitting scream drew everyone's gazes to the dozens of lithe figures, seemingly flowing around the incoming gunfire, sprinted up the ridge.

"Follow the Banshees! Charge!"

Though the sheer volume of enemy weapons fire claimed several of the Banshees, the vast majority leapt over the earthen barrier and descended into the trenches behind it. Thousands of Guardians emerged from cover and followed their lead, facing only light return fire as the Aspect Warriors busily slaughtered the troops manning the line. Vaulting over the ridge, Ilheic spared one final glance over her shoulder. Hundreds of shadows, a phalanx of grav tanks with War Walkers just behind, appeared over the horizon, charging across the no man's land between Eldar and Chaos lines. Turning back around, the Guardian joined the bloodbath in the enemy trenches.

* * *

**Central Pavilion, Caspeton, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51, Day Seven of the Siege of Altansar**

Though it felt like several lifetimes had passed since then, Nildail had picked up a Shuriken Catapult for the first time a mere three days ago. Afterwards, the others would quietly remark how he and many of his fellow volunteers were "too young to be fighting like this." The whispers fell silent whenever he passed by, and the Eldar youth pretended not to notice. He and his peers acquitted themselves admirably during the first Chaos attack on Caspeton, and the murmurings stopped for good.

The older fighters' concerns were not unfounded, but the remnants of Caspeton's garrison could ill-afford to turn away able bodies in such trying times. Shielded from the Chaos advance by hundreds of kilometers of terrain and the mighty citadel at Tunannir, the city had quickly become a safe haven from the fighting. Once a bustling trade hub, Caspeton quickly became home to those too young or too infirm to fight as they waited in hopes of securing a seat on the next evacuation convoy. The other buildings were hastily converted into a giant field hospital, and even its fairly substantial staff was spread thin trying to put Eldar soldiers back into the fight.

The fall of Tunannir had taken everybody by surprise. The sector's military forces had stationed its finest troops at the citadel to start with, and they had poured ever-larger numbers of personnel and equipment to shore up its defenses as time passed. Fulgrim had simply ordered the fortress razed from orbit. Faced only with scattered and demoralized second-rate units, Chaos forces advanced early two hundred and fifty kilometers literally overnight. The inhabitants of Caspeton went to sleep far away from enemy lines and work up well behind them.

The initial Chaos attack hit the defenders hard: artillery pulverized the city, and the massive combined assault that followed annihilated much of Caspeton's token garrison. With nothing to stand in their way, the enemy embarked on an orgy of slaughter and excess amongst the population. Eldar were tortured to death in the streets, rendered down to mind-stripping stimulants, or dragged away screaming to satisfy baser desires. The few lucky enough to escape went underground, taking refuge in the sewer tunnels beneath Caspeton.

Nildail's older sister had thrown herself in front of the Chaos Space Marine in a futile effort to shield him. The genetically-altered human simply laughed and smashed her aside, caving in her chest and sending the corpse flying into the nearby wall. As the armored titan approached the cowering Eldar youth, a hundred thousand possibilities of what to do with his new prisoner running through his mind, Nildail prayed to whatever deities would listen. His prayers were answered in the form of a passing Guardian squad, whom dispatched the Space Marine with a Fusion Gun blast, vaporizing half its torso, and then shot it again for good measure.

Despite objections, Nildail was one of the many who stepped forward when the remnants of Caspeton's garrison asked for volunteers to help retake the city. He wasn't due to start Guardian training for at least another few years, but the fledgling resistance movement was in no position to refuse willing help. Despite objections, the Guardians hurriedly taught him basic marksmanship and even gave him an ill-fitting mesh armor vest salvaged from the armory.

* * *

Still absorbed in their festival of excess, the Chaos forces occupying Caspeton were caught by surprise when a force of Eldar Guardians, walking wounded, and children emerged from the sewers and began firing. They struck from the shadows, completely overwhelming small enemy positions and retreating into the labyrinthine back alleyways at the first sign of enemy reinforcements. Thus, the ragtag band of barely eight hundred inflicted heavy casualties upon the enemy while taking few of their own.

Chaos reinforcements poured into the city hours later.

* * *

At some point, resistance forces had stumbled upon a cache of Dire Avenger Shuriken Catapults, approximately forty in all, and had quickly pressed them into service as automatic support weapons. The find proved a great boon during the initial Chaos assault, scything down the enemy by the hundreds as they attempted to charge the hurriedly-erected barricades. Though the makeshift militia fought doggedly, each ill-trained civilian pulling several times their weight, the enemy's crushing numerical superiority slowly carried the battle.

Nildail could hear the whining of powered armor servos and the rumbling of enemy armored vehicles in the distance. Chaos soldiers, many wearing profaned versions of Imperial Guard flak armor, poured into the pavilion. Though much better-equipped and –trained than the cultists the Eldar resistance initially fought, the barricades still funneled them into the fire lanes of the dozen or so remaining Dire Avenger Catapults, and they were scythed down by the dozen.

An ear-splitting screech assaulted Nildail's ears. Feeling his very sanity cracking, the youth clamped his hands over his ears. Several of the Eldar around him were not so fortunate and fell to the ground, screaming and clawing at their faces. A nearby Guardian put them out of their misery with a few well-placed shurikens.

"Concentrate fire!"

The bulk of the defenders' weapons fire diverted to the central road as the massive forms of Chaos Space Marines hurtled into the pavilion. Clad in garish pink power armor inscribed with sigils of She Who Thirsts and fighting sans-helmet, revealing their heavily-mutilated faces and glazed-over eyes, the new arrivals cut a swath through the desperate Eldar forces. Their weapons overwhelmed the senses with light and sound, stripping away their unfortunate victims' sanities while providing their users with a high like no other.

Though the armored titans occasionally staggered as a lucky shuriken found the joints in their armor, the vast majority of incoming fire glanced off the thick ceramite. One Marine staggered, half his torso blown away by a Fusion Gun blast. His twisted face contorted into an expression of mixed pain and ecstasy as he drank in the sensations of his final moments before collapsing. Retribution was swift, the fearsome noise-based weapons reducing the Fusion Gun's wielder and the rest of his squad into a puddle of melted flesh.

The fallen Astartes of the Emperor's Children bludgeoned their way past the Eldar forces, the numerous shurikens piercing their flesh arousing them more than hurting them. They charged ahead, heedless of their allies scattering before them, and trampling those who failed to move away in time. Occasionally, one would stop and pick up one of the defenders, twisting off his or her limbs with savage glee as the unfortunate victim thrashed and screamed.

* * *

Despite its huge size, the Chaos Space Marine crossed the few meters between him and Nildail's position in seconds, hurtling through the flimsy barrier and crushing one of the defenders underfoot. The third defender crouched behind the barrier opened up, his shurikens easily piercing the ceramite at such close range. The Astartes, seemingly unfazed by the desperate attack, turned around and regarded the cowering Eldar as one would a particularly unpleasant insect. Nildail turned away as the genetically-modified super-soldier raised his foot and bought it back down. A scream and a wet _crunch_, and all went silent.

A prickling sensation on the back of Nildail's neck prompted him to duck, and the youth threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid a gauntleted fist. He scrambled away from the twisted parody of an Astartes, squeezing off shots from his Shuriken Catapult as fast as his fingers would allow. Nildail had scant fractions of a second to dodge the second blow, his quick reflexes causing the armored boot to send him flying rather than caving his skull in.

The youth landed several meters away, slamming into a barricade and sliding down to the ground. He coughed up blood, and even drawing breath overwhelmed his senses with sheer agony. Having lost his weapon during the flight, Nildail's hands scrambled over the ground around him in search for anything he could to fight back with. His hands closed around a hard object as the Noise Marine grabbed him by the neck and picked him up.

Though the haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, Nildail saw the expression on the enemy's face, and it frightened him. It was the same as that time… He pushed thoughts of the past aside as the Noise Marine bought him closer, no doubt to better inspect his new prisoner. The followers of The Great Serpent had left enough desecrated corpses lying around for the Eldar youth to know that just about anything was preferable to capture. Nildail silently prayed for strength as he bought the melta bomb up to the fallen Space Marine's eye level. As the twisted Astartes began to emerge from his stupor, Nildail had primed the explosive and, with a fierce roar unbefitting of somebody so near death, shoved it down the Noise Marine's gullet.

The blast vaporized them both.

* * *

Though massively outnumbered and outgunned, demoralized and surrounded on all sides, the eight hundred at Caspeton fought until the bitter end. Ultimately, the forces of Chaos would dedicate nearly thirty thousand troops to crushing Caspeton's three-day final stand. When the last guns fell silent, the invaders descended upon the city and subjected it to a day-long orgy of burning and looting. The delay enraged Fulgrim, and the Daemon Primarch's wrath proved terrible indeed: he ordered the one in charge of the Caspeton assault placed within a Dreadnought and the fallen Astartes' surviving subordinates executed.

In the end, the saga of the eight hundred at Caspeton would become one of the many tales of valor during the siege of Altansar fated never to be told.

* * *

**Skies Over Espevar, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51, Day Ten of the Siege of Altansar**

"Chronos Nine, watch your six!"

Having fully committed to an attack run on an enemy Marauder bomber, the pilot known as Chronos Nine had no time to react as a Thunderbolt dropped in behind him. Warning lights on his heads-up display blinked crazily as lascannon blasts and autocannon rounds slammed into his rapidly-weakening rear hadron fields. To make matters worse, the Marauder opened up with its dorsal-mounted heavy bolters, quickly chewing through Chronos Nine's virtually-depleted forward hadron fields. The explosive shells began detonating against the Excalibur's thick hull armor, taking away chunks of it at a time and several coming perilously close to its pilot. One shot struck home but failed to detonate, bouncing off his Knightmare's armor.

"Chronos Nine, guns!"

The Marauder could dish out punishment well enough, but it proved surprisingly incapable of taking any in return. A hail of cherry-red bolts tore through its relatively-thin armor, shearing off a wing and sending it spiraling to the ground in flames. Chronos Nine slammed on the brakes just as his rear hadron fields flickered and died, causing his pursuer to overshoot. A lengthy burst from his craft's forward-mounted hadron machine guns filled the enemy fighter with holes. No longer able to withstand the stress of its own flight, the Thunderbolt's hull ripped apart.

"Baneblade moving up the city street!" a new voice reported over the radio, "Taking heavy casualties! We need air support!"

* * *

**Main Street, Espevar  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

Sergeant Neil Pizzuto twisted his body, his landspinners throwing up a shower of sparks as they screeched to a halt. The OPAW trooper nearly spun out of control and careened into a nearby passageway, avoiding a krak missile and two lascannon blasts by fractions of a centimeter. A number of traitor Guardsmen appeared at the other end of the alley, one of them leveling a melta gun at the Knightmare while the others formed up into a two-tiered firing line. Lasgun bolts peppered him, overwhelming his nearly-depleted hadron fields and several coming uncomfortably close to penetrating his armor.

Neil's eyes widened as the melta discharged. The OPAW sergeant simultaneously leapt upwards and threw himself aside. The blast of superheated air passed well below him, and his momentum allowed him to run along one of the alley's high walls for several meters. Kicking off, Pizzuto soared over the enemy soldiers and landed behind them, whirling around and mowing them down with a lengthy burst of his light hadron machine gun before they could turn around.

Before he could turn and rejoin the rapidly-snowballing melee in Espevar's main avenue, a shell detonated by his feet. At such close range, not even rutalium carbide was proof against a Demolisher Cannon, and the unfortunate OPAW sergeant was vaporized.

* * *

"Baneblade!"

Corporal Loraine Heiber's blood ran cold. The roar of a Baneblade's engines drowned out all else as the much-dreaded super-heavy tank drove straight through a building and into the street. Several OPAW troopers broke off and began circling the monstrosity, their hadron bolts pinging uselessly against its thick armor. The whining of lascannons and the barking of heavy bolters rang out, the devastating barrage ripping through the Knightmares' thin armor. The chaotic melee raging in Espevar's main avenue began calming as the 10th OPAW desperately disengaged in order to seek cover. The deafening _boom_s of the Baneblade's Demolisher Cannon shook the entire city as the Chaos tank's crew bombarded the withdrawing Black Knights with little regard for their allies.

"Dammit! Anyone with FLEIJAs left, take that monster down!"

A nearby OPAW trooper sprang out of cover, FLEIJA launcher loaded and shouldered. Loraine dared not so much as breath as her comrade took aim and squeezed the trigger. The warhead left the nondescript grey tube with a dull _whump_ and soared over the rubble to strike the armor plating between the Baneblade's turret and its flank. Relief turned to panic as the expected flash of a Needle Blazer discharge and the subsequent blast failed to materialize.

"Shit! Bounced!"

The Baneblade's crew, no doubt scarcely able to believe their incredible luck and praising whatever dark gods they served, opened fire once again. The super-heavy tank's myriad weapons opened up, blowing apart the rubble piles littering the street and the OPAW troopers seeking shelter behind them. The unlucky OPAW trooper sprang out of cover again, his FLEIJA launcher reloaded and ready for another try. A barrage of bolter shells reduced him to ribbons before he could fire and reduced the weapon to a pile of twisted scrap.

"Doesn't anyone have FLEIJAs left?"

"Dammit! Chaos forces are charging!"

Heiber leapt up, wildly spraying weapons fire into the oncoming horde. Some staggered and fell, but another filled the gap soon afterwards. Chaos Mines flew into the streets, cutting down vast swathes of enemy infantry but having little effect on the lumbering Baneblade. The armored titan's presence did far more to bolster Chaos morale than the casualties inflicted by the 10th OPAW did to weaken it. Several OPAW troopers broke cover and made a mad dash for the Baneblade. The combined firepower of the tank's formidable armament and the masses of Chaos infantry crowded around it shredded several of the troopers and forced the remainder back behind cover.

"Dammit, where's that air support?"

The Baneblade waded through even the 10th OPAW's formidable firepower, methodically destroying the elite unit with its numerous weapons. Many troopers began shooting at the tank's tracks in the vain hope of slowing the monster down. All they accomplished was highlighting their positions to the enemy.

Watching her squad's lifesigns blink out one by one, Loraine could hardly hold her weapon steady as the roar of the Baneblade's engines grew louder and louder. Springing out of cover, she froze in fear as she saw the tank's turret slowly turning towards her position. She threw herself backwards moments before the Battle Cannon rang out. Though Heiber avoided the worst of the blast, the shockwave of the shell's detonation sent her flying.

* * *

Loraine hit the ground hard, nearly slipping into unconsciousness. Vaguely aware of the armored titan's continuing death march, the OPAW trooper scrambled to her feet and promptly collapsed again, still disoriented from the shockwave. Warning lights on her heads-up display blaring shrilly and her ears ringing, Heiber slumped against a nearby pile of rubble and numbly watched the Baneblade's massive form slowly advanced down the city streets, what little return fire the 10th OPAW troopers could muster against it splashing pathetically against its hull armor.

The OPAW Corporal could only watch in stunned silence as the Baneblade's rear engine compartment suddenly burst into flames. She chalked the sight up to delirium, but continued watching anyway. The massive tank visibly slowed, then ground to a halt. As the flames slowly began dying down, an unseen force rekindled them. One of the hatches popped open and a man, presumably the tank commander, popped his head out with a laspistol in hand. A shot from an unseen assailant drilled a neat hold in his forehead, and he slumped over the cupola. An Excalibur-class attack craft roared overhead, its belly barely clearing Espevar's spires. Had she the strength and lucidity, Loraine would have let out a whoop of joy as the Baneblade disappeared in an FLEIJA blast. The Chaos forces, their momentum lost, turned and ran.

As she slipped in and out of consciousness, Loraine became aware of somebody…several somebodies…climbing over the rubble towards her. A dark shadow fell over her as her world slowly faded to black. She dismissed the last thing she saw before finally slipping into oblivion as a hallucination.

After all, what business would an Imperial Navy Security Trooper have on an Eldar Craftworld?

* * *

**Interrogation Room, Black Knights Frigate **_**Caerleon  
**_**017.M51, Day Twelve of the Siege of Altansar**

Two figures stood side-by-side, hands folded behind their backs and silently staring through the one-way glass. The chamber's sole occupant, a heavily-restrained and –sedated Chaos commander, glared back from the other side. One of the observers shrank away slightly despite knowing their prisoner could not possibly see them. The other man, clad in the distinctive black tunic and side cap of the Psychic Special Warfare Department, remained stone-faced.

"Has she said anything yet?" the operative suddenly asked, craning his neck slightly to look his Knightmare-clad comrade in the eye.

"Nothing yet," the militia trooper shook his head, "She's made of slightly sterner stuff than the average cultist."

"It's been nearly ten days since we bought her in," the operative snapped, his impatience showing, "If we don't have some clue as to the enemy's battle plans, and soon…"

"General Kozuki," the militia trooper cut his companion off, "has authorized the use of more forceful methods, but our prisoner here is of a Slaaneshi cult…"

"So at best, conventional torture methods will do nothing," the operative finished, "and at worst, she'll _like_ it."

"Yes," the militia trooper nodded unnecessarily.

After a lengthy silence, the Psychic Special Warfare operative spoke up again.

"I'm going in to have a little chat with our guest. First sign of trouble, gas the room and ask questions later."

As if to emphasize the point, the operative tapped the dagger holstered at his waist. Though largely ceremonial in nature, he could still use the blade to quickly end his own life in the event of daemonic possession.

* * *

Delo's eyes snapped towards the door as it slid open, revealing another of the armored titans standing behind it, its weapon pointed at her. She glared at it, imagining what she would do to the suit's wearer if given half the chance. Rather than stepping into her cell as she expected, the power armor-clad soldier took a step backwards and let another man through. The door slammed shut as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

The new arrival stood ramrod-straight, hands folded behind his back, and regarded her for several seconds. He looked young, not more than five or six years out of adolescence, and utterly unremarkable. Instead of the powered armor that Delo was now all too familiar with, he wore a matte-black tunic and side cap, all devoid of identifying information. After several moments, he took several steps into the room and approached her restrained form.

"So you're the one who tried to take Castrinaia," he asked rhetorically, "Not too tough now, are you?"

He smirked, as if enjoying some private joke, causing Delo's blood to boil. She shot him a glare sufficient to stop an Imperial battleship in its tracks, the look in her eyes promising an eternity of torment for him should she escape her restraints. The man in the side cap appeared unfazed and stepped forward. He removed her over-the-mouth gag, narrowly dodging the wad of saliva Delo sent in his direction.

"You're wasting your time if you want information from me. Only death awaits the followers of the Corpse-Emperor. I would be a fool to aid a losing side. So do your worst, _Inquisitor_." Delo pronounced the last word with no small measure of disgust.

To her surprise, the man threw his head back and laughed. Anger surged through Delo's veins, and had she possessed psychic abilities, the hatred in her glare would have flayed the man alive a dozen times over.

"An Inquisitor?" he gasped out as he wiped a tear from his eye, "You think I'm an _Inquisitor_?"

The very air suddenly grew unbearably heavy, and cold fear slowly crept into Delo's mind. The traitorous Guardswoman began wriggling in a futile attempt to escape the straitjacket, or at least back away.

"Oh no, I'm not an Inquisitor," the smile that crept up her interrogator's face made even Delo's blood run cold, "I'm much, _much_ worse. When Inquisitors have nightmares, they see people like me."

Delo could have sworn she saw his eyes flash momentarily.

"An Inquisitor would interrogate you. When you refuse, they'd alternately torture and question you. When all that fails, they bring in a Psyker and rip that information out of your mind. You and I both know that you won't talk. And you'd probably _like_getting tortured," his mouth curled up into an unpleasant expression, "So we're just going to skip to the last step."

Even after years of witnessing the horrors of the Warp, Delo could not suppress a howl of terror as the Psychic Special Warfare Operative stepped closer, a strange sigil appearing in his eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** And there we have it! The Craftworld Invasion arc reaches full swing. Additionally: Baneblades and Psychic Special Warfare Operatives. The only thing scarier, I'd say, is a Psychic Special Warfare Operative driving a Baneblade.

Until next time!


	21. Chapter Twenty: Turning Point

**Disclaimer: **You know the drill. Neither _Code Geass_ nor _Warhammer 40k_ are mine.

**Chapter Twenty: Turning Point**

As the siege dragged on, the skies of Altansar played host to a never-ending, macabre meteor shower. Though the Warp storm hindered their movement, the remnants of the Craftworld's space forces mounted a vicious guerilla war against the Chaos fleet. Any ship foolhardy enough to enter low orbit in preparation to land additional troops or bombard Eldar positions was quickly ripped apart. Heavily-damaged ships, debris, and drifting corpses gradually deorbited and burned up in the Craftworld's atmosphere. Though it could not possibly stop every Chaos warship, Altansar's shattered space fleet allowed the counterattack below to continue unmolested.

In spite of casualties great enough to horrify even the most hardened of Imperial commanders, Eldar ground forces continued to press the attack. One hundred fifty thousand lost, out of an original force of nearly eight hundred thousand, at the forests of Gallitias. Four hundred thousand lay dead after repelling the Chaos assault on Ugennea. The killing fields around Sprannano claimed twenty thousand lives in a mere ten hours. The road from Caspeton to Tunnanir was soaked in the blood of nearly one and a half million Eldar. Though each new dawn brought a dozen such casualty reports, the citizens of Altansar refused to see the counteroffensive as anything other than success, for every such report also bought with it news that another few dozen kilometers of their home was cleansed of the Chaos taint.

Faced with the berserk fury that only one whose home was threatened could muster, many a Chaos army broke and ran upon mere sight of advancing Eldar forces. As the counteroffensive continued, it began to fall victim to its own success. Supply lines were stretched thin in the few places they could actually keep pace with the allied advance. All over the front lines, friendly units were cut off and annihilated after they had outrun their support units.

* * *

**Interrogation Room, Black Knights Frigate _Caerleon  
_017.M51, Day Twelve of the Siege of Altansar**

Gunnery Sergeant Erik Graybeal felt unpleasant chills run up his spine as he watched the scene unfold before him. The prisoner thrashed about, struggling in vain against her restraints as the Psychic Special Warfare operative stepped closer, her mouth open in a scream that the armored glass thankfully blocked out. Even the two militiamen guarding the doorway, their features hidden behind expressionless helmets, showed their unease. They nervously fingered their hadron assault rifles, turning their heads almost imperceptibly away from the unfolding scene.

As if a switch were thrown, the prisoner stopped moving, her eyes glassing over and her expression vacating. If anything, it served to further compound Graybeal's unease. Moments later, a wave of psychic pressure—not powerful enough to pose a threat but leaving a mild throbbing in the back of the Gunny Sergeant's skull—broke against his mental barriers. The prisoner ceased struggling and her body went limp, all emotion draining from her face and replaced by a vacant stare.

For the second time in so many days, Erik found himself thankful that the Psychic Special Warfare Department was on his side.

* * *

**Black Knights 10th OPAW Field Headquarters  
Outskirts of Aquova, Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

In the beginning, Kallen had led the 10th Orbital Planetary Assault Wing from the front, carving a swath of destruction though Chaos forces with the help of her customized Knightmare. The heavy fighting ground down the Black Knights' numbers, yet demand for their abilities only increased as the siege dragged on. The OPAW's already stretched-thin ranks began drifting apart, the troopers scattered among the numerous battlefields dotting the Craftworld. Reluctantly, Kallen retired from the battlefield and established a field headquarters.

From the outside, the 10th OPAW's forward command center didn't look like much. Located in the bombed-out husk of a restaurant on the outskirts of Aquova, it nonetheless possessed a commanding view of the surrounding terrain. Communications equipment and personnel flown down from the _Caerleon_ and a constant orbital uplink with the aforementioned destroyer allowed Kallen to coordinate Black Knights combat operations throughout the Craftworld.

News of Espevar spread quickly, and allied morale plummeted. Hearing of a single OPAW trooper fall was one thing, but news that an entire squad lay dead in the city streets was a whole different beast. It hardly mattered that they had perished while fighting the metal monster that was an Imperial Baneblade.

"Message from the forces at Espevar: search efforts continue, but they don't expect to find anything more. All but one body currently accounted for."

Kallen dismissed her personal holographic heads-up display and looked the militia trooper straight in the eye pieces.

"Do we have any more information?"

"Yes ma'am," the communications officer nodded, "According to the squad roster, the unaccounted-for body is that of a Corporal Loraine Heiber. According from the data salvaged from the recovered Knightmares, she was last seen attempting to engage the Baneblade moments before the airstrike hit."

Though part of her was concerned about recovering the Corporal's remains so that they could receive a proper burial, Kallen was currently far more worried about the missing trooper's Knightmare. The advanced powered armor suits were one of the Black Knights' greatest trump cards, and one did not need a genius-level intellect to see what could happen should one fall into Chaos hands.

"Could she possibly have been caught in the FLEIJA blast?"

"The techs haven't completely ruled that possibility out yet," the communications officer admitted, "But the likelihood of such an event remains low. They're also exploring the possibility that the Corporal's Knightmare managed to self-destruct, but current evidence indicates otherwise."

"Keep me posted."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

**Interrogation Room  
Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon_**

Psychic Special Warfare operative Johann Nathan took another step towards the thrashing Chaos commander, his mind reaching out and subtly manipulating her synapses. Within seconds, the struggling stopped and her body went slack, held up only by the restraints. All emotion drained off the woman's face and she stared vacantly ahead, mouth hung slightly open. The operative looked into her glazed-over eyes, the sigils in his glowing brighter than before.

"Now…" the operative said to nobody in particular, "I wonder what your name is."

Had the scene occurred in an entertainment holo, a projection of the sigil would have flown from the operative's eyes and flapped towards his victim's. Generations of psychic special warfare operatives were left scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders regarding the ludicrously widespread misconception's origins. The reality proved significantly more mundane: the sigils in Johann's eyes flashed momentarily, and a thin ring of red appeared around the prisoner's irises.

Even after intense instruction on the use of his unique ability, Johann nearly passed out as the hurricane of information buffeted his mind. He closed his eyes and forced deep breaths into his lungs, gradually slowing the whirlwind and bringing it under control. Feeling his way around the woman's mind, he sifted through the strands of thought and knowledge until he grasped what he wanted. Taking another deep breath and exhaling slowly, he returned to reality.

"Delo, huh?" Johann paused, as if waiting for the catatonic woman to respond, "Well, now, Delo, I wonder what you know about the makeup of the Chaos forces attacking Altansar."

Once again, the operative plunged into the tempest.

* * *

**Central Pavilion, Manesus  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

Edelion's stomach growled and his throat burned, even his saliva having dried up hours ago. He ignored the pain and continued scanning the city streets below, his Shuriken Catapult propped up on the windowsill. He nearly jumped out of his armor when he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. He whirled around, one arm raised to block his face while the other lashed out to attack. The Guardian was greeted with the sight of one of his comrades with a proffered water canteen, and he stopped his attack mid-swing and awkwardly lowered his arms. He gratefully accepted the canteen and took a swig, taking extra care to not spill a single drop. A small measure of strength returned to Edelion's limbs.

Chaos forces broke out of their initial landing zones with great violence, sending the defenders on a disorganized retreat that left them scattered across hundreds of square kilometers. Many of the survivors were relentlessly chased, hunted down, and killed over the next few days. Edelion was one of the lucky ones, having stumbled upon a force of Guardians making their way towards Manesus. Though they had no support weapons, no armored support, and few supplies, they decided to stand their ground in the city and await relief forces. That was seven days ago.

Utilizing the city's extensive network of back alleys and sewers, Edelion and his fellow Guardians waged a painful guerilla war on the Chaos forces hoping to take Manesus. A more scientifically-minded member of the defending force had even concocted improvised firebombs so that they would stand a small chance against enemy armor. Yet, the dwindling supplies and the sheer weight of enemy numbers slowly took their toll. Day and night, Fulgrim's forces bombed and shelled Manesus in hopes of flushing the defenders of their hiding spots. What began as a force of two hundred Guardians lurking around the city gradually turned into thirty bunkering down in a pair of hastily-fortified buildings in the city center.

"We've got incoming: two high-speed contacts flying low through the streets!"

Edelion threw to the floor and grabbed his Shuriken Catapult, hurriedly performing some last-minute checks on the weapon before cautiously rising into a kneeling position. His comrade crawled along the floor towards a neighboring window and slowly wriggled up into a leaning position. He tilted his head slightly, just barely allowing the cameras in his helmet a clear view of the outside. Edelion gripped his weapon tighter as his companion stuck the barrel of his Shuriken Catapult beyond the window frame and opened fire.

Edelion peeked out above the barricade, and his heart stopped as a metal form filled a window frame. Easily as large as the Traitor Astartes they had spotted with the last wave of Chaos attackers, but clearly utilizing different technology. The Eldar Guardian let out an undignified howl as he threw himself backwards, firing his Shuriken Catapult as fast as he could pull the trigger. His companion took a few steps backwards and began blindly pumping shurikens into the window. Edelion's eyes widened as several of the monomolecular discs glanced off the enemy's armor while others scratched the surface but failed to penetrate.

"Everyone, cease firing! We just got a message from the main army! They're friendlies! They're those Black Knights we've been hearing so much about!"

Edelion sheepishly lowered his weapon and awkwardly accepted the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing trooper's proffered hand.

* * *

"Approximately fifteen hours ago, a detachment of twenty thousand Guardians and Aspect Warriors under Exarch Anduah broke off from the main force at Mytuanias and began rapid-marching towards Manesus. When we left, they were here," the Knightmare jabbed at an area on the map a handful of kilometers outside city limits.

"Chaos forces in this region have diverted most of their fighting strength to stop Anduah's force, but they are steadily advancing and should arrive within the next twelve hours. The enemy has realized the Exarch's objective and is force-marching its remaining forces here."

"And what is their fighting strength?" asked Legihl, the _de facto_ leader of Manesus' defenses through virtue of seniority.

"Between seven and nine thousand infantry, some one hundred tanks and assorted armored vehicles, and aerial support," the OPAW trooper reeled off matter-of-factly.

A few of the Guardians slumped slightly in their seats but otherwise hid their despair admirably well.

"Unfortunately, the rest of my unit is occupied at other fronts," the trooper carefully avoided any mention of Espevar, "so the two of us is all you've got. Exarch Anduah has also sent whatever weapons and supplies she can spare."

Spirits lifted noticeably when the OPAW trooper strode off to the crate he had carried in and broke the seals. In response to several Guardian squads' creative repurposing of Dire Avenger Suriken Catapults as mobile squad support weapons, Anduah had included a number of them in the supply shipment, along with several Fusion Guns and Shuriken Catapults. More importantly, the crate was crammed full of ration bars and water containers.

"Perhaps we'll actually make it out of this alive," Edelion muttered to himself.

* * *

**Interrogation Room  
Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon_**

Johann emerged from the maelstrom once again, shaken but still standing. He glanced at the wall-mounted chronometer to regain his bearings. It came as little surprise that several hours had already passed. The first mental probe was meant to do little more than probe the enemy's defenses, skimming a few surface thoughts in search of a trivial bit of information. Seeking information of actual use, namely whatever Delo knew about Abaddon's troops, required diving much deeper and facing correspondingly tougher defenses.

The Psychic Special Warfare operative was both surprised and dismayed to find that Delo had remained sufficiently lucid to put up some basic defenses. Not only had she buried any information of actual military value deep into her psyche, she had also deeply intertwined them with irrelevant memories: old Imperial Guard ciphers, childhood memories, five hundred games one could play with a mess tin. The task of unraveling the latter had proven fairly easy, but highly tedious. Infuriatingly, what information he could retrieve was largely composed of vague impressions rather than concrete facts. Only one piece of solid information was neither blindingly obvious nor already known to Intelligence: the leader of the invasion for was the Daemon Primarch Fulgrim. An interesting development, he had to admit, but hardly world-shattering. If nothing else, it would narrow down future searches.

Stretching out his cramped limbs and sore muscles, Johann looked Delo in the eye once again, the sigils in his eyes reappearing.

"Now, I wonder what you know about Fulgrim's battle plans."

* * *

**Central Pavilion, Manesus  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

"I think I see something…" one of the Guardians on the roof announced.

Private Allie Knuth's hands were too large to use the proffered binocs, and she already had something just as good—if not better—built into her helmet already. Her companion, a Guardian by the name of Edelion, made the same realization a few seconds too late. As the Eldar awkwardly withdrew the binocs, Allie bought up her Knightmare's visual enhancement suite and began zooming in on the designated sector. Unlike what entertainment holos seemed so fond of showing, she couldn't zoom in far enough to make out individual unit patches, but she could make out individual infantrymen.

"I see them. Looks like a hundred infantry and a Leman Russ tank in support, with another two hundred and five Chimaeras not far behind. They're probably going to come in through the main street."

* * *

**Outskirts of Manesus  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

"Steady…here they come…"

Isaredaol patted his companion on the back with all the reassurance he didn't feel. It seemed to work, at least, and the other Guardian loosened his death-grip on the Dire Avenger Shuriken Catapult. The roar of the Leman Russ' engines drew closer, as did the footfalls of a hundred Chaos soldiers. Isaredaol signaled his counterpart on the opposite rooftop. The other Guardian signaled back, Fusion Gun at the ready, and disappeared into the building.

"Steady…"

The Leman Russ' rumbling altered in pitch as the war machine entered the streets of Manesus.

"This is Ralaratg. I'm in position."

"Fire! Take out that Leman Russ!"

A miniature sun slammed into the vulnerable flank armor of the Chaos battle tank, piercing straight through the thin plasteel and cooking the crew. The backwash from the blast vaporized several of the infantry clustered around the vehicle, and the survivors scattered as the Leman Russ ground to a halt. The tank burst into flame, then exploded when a second Fusion Gun blast detonated its ammunition rack.

"Fire!"

Isaredaol and his companion sprang up to their feet, pouring shurikens into the city streets below as the surviving enemy soldiers scattered in search of cover. Several ducked into a destroyed storefront and dove behind the counter, muttering praises to whatever twisted powers they worshipped. A few cut-off screams identified the building as the same one the tank hunter team had taken shelter in.

"Second wave incoming!"

A storm of lasfire forced the defenders' heads down as enemy reinforcements poured into the city streets. A lucky lasbolt caught Isaredaol's companion in the neck, and the Eldar collapsed to his knees, gurgling and clutching his throat. The surviving Guardian grabbed his dead companion's soulstone and weapon and leapt onto the adjacent rooftop just as a heavy bolter shredded the makeshift rooftop fortification. More bolt rounds detonated harmlessly against the walls as Isaredaol set up the Dire Avenger Shuriken Catapult and began filling the streets below with monomolecular discs.

He lasted only a few seconds until the enemy gunners gave up on trying to kill him and simply bought the entire building down with a missile.

* * *

"Chimaera incoming!"

The three Guardians on the street below averted their gaze as the Fusion Gun fired, the glob of superheated plasma starting several small fires as it streaked out of the storefront and slammed into the Chimaera's flank. The blast melted a sizable chunk of the vehicle's skirt armor and, more importantly, fused part of its tracks together. The cooling metal sagged and pulled apart, and the armored transport veered off the road and slammed into a nearby building. The tank hunter team tensed and prepared to run as the crippled vehicle's turret slowly turned around to face them as it dropped the deployment ramp. A second Fusion Gun blast cooked the Chimaera's passengers and its crew, and one of the Guardians lobbed a plasma grenade into the partially-open troop compartment just to make sure.

The shuriken fire from above slackened then stopped entirely, allowing the Chaos soldiers to approach the ruined storefront virtually unmolested. The tank hunter team opened fire with their Shuriken Catapults, but the deadly monomolecular discs were lost amidst the wall of lasbolts the Chaos soldiers sent at the Eldar. One of the Guardians went down, a hail of lasbolts perforating his chest. The other two didn't even have an opportunity to fight back: another Chimaera rolled in front of the building and flooded it with promethium.

* * *

**Interrogation Room, Black Knights Destroyer _Caerleon  
_Five Hours Later**

Erik breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the operative emerge from his trance and hurriedly stretch out some tired muscles. The militiaman signaled the Knightmares flanking the door as the operative turned around and gestured that he wanted to leave. Whatever small measure of relief Erik felt upon realizing that the operative his finished his unpleasant work for the time being disappeared when he got a close look at the man's face. The man was pale and practically shaking in fear.

Gunnery Sergeant Erik Graybeal wasn't the most knowledgeable about the Psychic Special Warfare Department. However, he had served long enough to know that its operatives were made of fairly stern stuff. They had to be: how else would they regularly endure the kinds of horrors others generally faced only when things went terribly wrong? What could actually scare a Psychic Special Warfare operative so badly was a question Erik would rather not know the answer to.

"Get me a line to General Kozuki," the operative shakily demanded, "Don't take no for an answer! If they refuse, tell them that Altansar lives or dies depending on what is done in the next twenty-four hours!"

* * *

**Central Pavilion, Manesus  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

Though the barrel was already glowing red-hot, Edelion squeezed off another shot with the Fusion Gun as soon as it recharged. Even though the air rapidly robbed it of its destructive punch, the bolt of superheated plasma punched through the Leman Russ' thin top armor and cooked off the tank's remaining shells. A particularly wicked-looking piece of shrapnel pierced the wall mere centimeters from where the Guardian stood. A gratifying number of the Chaos infantry that had clustered around the tank for support were reduced to a shower of blood and gore.

"There's still more coming!"

A distinctive pink flash engulfed one of the approaching Chimaeras and left a smooth crater in the ground, almost as if somebody had simply scooped out some of the pavement. The Chimaera just behind it was wreathed in flames as the Guardians lobbed firebombs onto it from the windows above. Several of the infantry screamed and scattered, their clothing set ablaze. Many had their suffering cut short by the thousands of shurikens pouring in the streets from above.

"Somebody stop that Chimaera!"

"I'm all out of FLEIJAs!" Allie announced, stowing her launcher and drawing her machine gun.

Edelion swung the Fusion Gun around and lined the Chimaera up in his sights. He took a deep breath to steady his heartbeat and pulled the trigger. The Guardian's much-abused weapon finally gave out, its barrel melting into a useless chunk of wraithbone. Edelion tossed the weapon aside and grabbed his Shuriken Catapult, contributing to the truly impressive volume of firepower pouring into the street below while tracking his plasma bolt with hopeful eyes. The miniature newborn star streaked towards the Chimaera and slammed into its roof. The comparatively-thin armor visibly glowed and sagged for several seconds, but ultimately held.

Allie whirled around and unleashed a storm of hadron bolts onto the armored vehicle, but it did little good. The Guardian tried to block out the screams of his doomed comrades as the Chimaera flooded the lower floors of the opposite building with burning promethium. The stream of flame slowly worked its way up the building, stopping only when a lucky firebomb ignited the vehicle's promethium tank.

"More armored vehicles coming down the street!"

"Our last Fusion Gun just melted!"

Streams of heavy bolter fire tore through the building below Edelion's feet, shredding through whatever few Guardians remained. The shurikens that made up their return fire bounced uselessly off the vehicles' hulls, serving only to highlight the shooters' positions to the enemy gunners. The hadron bolts punched through the armor of the lighter vehicles, albeit with difficulty, but could not inflict enough damage to knock them out quickly. Against the more heavily-armored vehicles, they proved as effective as throwing rocks.

* * *

"Another armored column incoming from south end! Looks like four Leman Russ tanks and six Chimaeras with roughly four hundred infantry in support!"

The aforementioned armored column disappeared in a series of pink flashes, causing all those fighting—Chaos, Eldar, and Black Knights alike—to glance skywards. Particularly sharp-eyed individuals managed to catch a cluster of fast-moving shapes roaring past the battlefield, knocking several Guardians off their feet with the downwash. The shapes doubled around and launched another salvo of FLEIJA warheads while hosing down the city streets with hadron bolts.

Allie looked past the Excalibur squadron, now doubling back for a third attack run, and spotted the ship in low orbit. Confusion overtook all other reaction as—at least the last time Allie checked—the _Caerleon_ was currently several thousand kilometers away aiding Eldar space forces in fighting off a particularly persistent Chaos assault. A quick check of the orbital uplink turned good, albeit confusing, news into better news.

* * *

**?  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

Loraine Heiber awoke with a start, bolting upright and blindly groping around for her hadron rifle. She calmed down slightly when she confirmed that her Knightmare was still intact and that she wasn't on the streets of Espevar anymore. She switched to night vision and slowly took in her surroundings. A cave of some sort? Thermal vision showed nothing out of the ordinary, and the motion sensor picked up only a few faint readings. The OPAW trooper flipped through the frequencies on her radio and even tried out the orbital uplink for good measure. Neither could establish a connection.

"Calm down," a voice spoke from the doorway, "You're as safe as it gets here."

Loraine whirled around, one hand reaching for a hadron saber despite the promise of safety, and crossed the distance in a fraction of a second. She found herself towering over an Imperial Navy Security Officer, her blade mere centimeters from his neck. The man didn't appear fazed, and the OPAW trooper reasoned that he could have killed her in her sleep if such were his goal. For that matter, if he had wanted to kill her, he could have just as easily left her to die in Espevar. She slowly lowered and stowed her blade.

"Who are you?" she asked cautiously.

"Private Jeffrey Palmer," the man proffered his hand, speaking in a tone that did not suggest that a blade had been pressed up against his throat moments before, "Imperial Navy Security."

* * *

**Black Knights 10th OPAW Field Headquarters  
Outskirts of Aquova, Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

"Ma'am, we have confirmation that the _Brittia_ has arrived in orbit! 17th OPAW is currently deploying to assist allied forces in Manesus and to assist the advance at Mytuanias."

A person possessing less personal restraint than General Kallen Kozuki would have let out a cheer. Instead, Kallen acknowledged with a nod and didn't object too hard when her headquarters staff broke out into a brief celebration. The celebratory mood immediately vanished when the transmission from the _Caerleon_ arrived.

"Ma'am," the miniature hologram of a Psychic Special Warfare operative saluted, "I have finished preliminary interrogation of the prisoner. It appears Fulgrim's ultimate objective is Craftworld Altansar's Infinity Circuit."

* * *

**A/N:** First off, a belated Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers!

Secondly, we have our first cameo in this chapter! See if you can spot him!

Thirdly, it has come to my attention that this fanfic has been granted a TVTropes page! ^-^ Shout out to the people who started it! I'd just like to take this time to encourage you guys to check it out and contribute to it if you wish. Seriously, it's a medium outside of reviews that I can use to gauge reader reactions to this story! It's a new and exiting frontier!


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: The Bulge

**Disclaimer: **Same drill as normal. _Warhammer 40k_ and _Code Geass_ not mine.**  
**

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Bulge**

Though certainly a welcome surprise, the sudden arrival of reinforcements from the Fleet meant little in the grand scheme of things. A single ship and one hundred twenty men were easily lost amidst the titanic struggle for Craftworld Altansar, where millions died daily and hundreds of ships clashed for supremacy. The _Brittia_, though a powerful warship, was designed to harass an enemy fleet's flanks rather than engage it directly. Highly-trained as the men and women of the 17th OPAW were, they could not possibly drive Fulgrim's armies off of Altansar in the four days before the Craftworld reached the Terra system. Such a herculean task would require at least an entire Theater Group, and preferably two of them.

At the very least, such would have been the situation mere hours before the _Brittia_'s arrival.

* * *

**Black Knights 10th and 17th OPAW Field Headquarters  
Ten Hours After the _Brittia_'s Arrival**

Only twelve days had passed since the _Caerleon_ first appeared over Altansar. Twelve days since the 10th OPAW became the first Black Knights to make a drop onto an Eldar Craftworld. Those twelve days felt like twelve years to the men and women of the 10th OPAW, having travelled from warzone to warzone since their feet touched the ground. The brutal nonstop fighting had taken its toll on the elite unit. Ground down to less than a third of their original numbers, their equipment scratched and caked with dirt, and their shoulders and backs slumped from exhaustion, they presented a sad sight next to their counterparts in the 17th.

Nearly one hundred and fifty Knightmare-equipped troopers packed the streets before the field headquarters, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Several militiamen from the _Brittia_ and the _Caerleon_ scurried about at the front of the building hurriedly assembling a holographic projector in preparation for the briefing. Several Eldar Exarchs stood off to the sides, eyeing the Psychic Special Warfare operatives in the crowd with no small measure of unease. The OPAW troopers began to snap to attention and salute when a distinctive crimson Knightmare emerged from the headquarters.

"As you were!"

The holographic projector blazed to life as Kallen turned to face the crowd. Several of the OPAW troopers and the Exarchs flinched at such a realistic image of Fulgrim's hideous multi-armed form suddenly appearing in the sky above Aquova. They had all seen and fought daemons before, but seeing one was not something one ever got used to.

"Thanks to recent efforts by the Psychic Special Warfare department, we have positive identification of the enemy leader. This," Kallen gestured at the hologram, "is Fulgrim, one of the Traitor Primarchs and now a Daemon Prince."

The image shifted to a strategic map of Craftworld Altansar, partly composed of flyby scans conducted by the _Caerleon_ and the gaps filled in with educated conjecture. Chaos red covered most of the chart, but the mass of Eldar green was rapidly growing as reports continued streaming in from the front. The map abruptly stopped rotating and began zooming in on a segment of the front line.

"Our intelligence indicates that he ultimately plans to capture Altansar's Infinity Circuit. We're not sure why, but he cannot be allowed to succeed regardless. However, the arrival of the _Brittia_ and the 17th OPAW has forced him to move his plans up. Roughly eight hours ago, one hundred eighty thousand Chaos troops launched an offensive at Olmuanene. Eldar forces were able to repel the initial waves, but another enemy force of nearly one and a half million arrived two hours later and utterly crushed the defenders."

The strategic map showed a rapidly-expanding dent in the Eldar lines where Chaos forces had broken through. Neighboring allied units desperately attempted to fall back and reinforce the foundering defenses, but doing so only further highlighted the bulge on the display. The gap in friendly lines spanned nearly a hundred kilometers at its widest point, and its growth showed no signs of slowing down.

"Following the breakthrough, another force of approximately three million joined the assault. If Chaos forces continue advancing at their current rate, they will reach Parynor, and its passages into the Infinity Circuit, within twenty hours. However, there is reason to believe that Fulgrim assembled such a large force on such short notice by diverting troops from other fronts. Chaos offensives at neighboring portions of the lines have slackened, and units from those areas are currently forming up roughly fifty kilometers ahead of the Chaos advance and digging in. Additional forces from all over the Craftworld are marching towards Parynor, but it is estimated they can delay the enemy advance by twenty-eight hours at most."

The holographic projector blinked off, and the militiamen scrambled forward to hurriedly disassemble the rig as Kallen concluded the briefing.

"There aren't enough of us to make much of a different on the front lines. Instead, we will drop behind the enemy's main force and harass their flanks and rear. Hopefully, we can draw enough enemy fire to give allied forces a fighting chance," Kallen paused for a moment, "Now, regarding Fulgrim: should you encounter him, _do _not_ engage him_! Fall back and radio in his position! If you can, keep his bodyguards' heads down while you await my arrival! Only the 17th Raiders, the Psychic Special Warfare units, and I are to engage Fulgrim under any circumstances! Any questions?"

When nobody moved after several seconds, Kallen turned towards the trio of Psychic Special Warfare operatives standing off to the side.

"Is there anything you wish to add?"

One of their number nodded and stepped to the front.

"There has been a spike in psychic activity from Chaos lines over the last few hours, giving us reason to believe that the enemy has committed a large number of daemons and sorcerers to this assault. From the sheer amount of activity, it is likely that Fulgrim's forces have summoned a number of greater daemons. They're much bigger and tougher than the small fry you've fought so far on this campaign, but if there is a daemon that doesn't find a FLEIJA to the face a severe inconvenience, I've yet to encounter it."

A few of the OPAW troopers in the crowd chuckled nervously. Others were struck speechless at the thought of a spook actually making a joke.

"Even if you don't encounter any greater daemons, the sheer number of lesser daemons makes monitoring your NBC seals' integrity even more important than normal."

The Psychic Special Warfare operative pivoted on his heel and turned to rejoin his comrades as Kallen retook center stage.

"We launch," the redheaded general paused as a trio of Sleipnir-class drop shuttles roared overhead and touched down in Aquova's central pavilion, "in fifteen minutes. Until then, dismissed!"

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
One Hour Later**

"Focus fire on that Chaos sorcerer!"

His nerves deadened by a lifetime of mind-bending excess, Iyitebu paid little attention to the shurikens piercing and slicing his flesh. His arms wove intricate patterns in the air before him, writhing and undulating in a manner impossible for anyone with a normal bone structure. A maddening kaleidoscope of impossible colors burst forth, and the Eldar manning the trench before him collapsed to the ground, screaming and clawing at their eyes. The Slaaneshi sorcerer spread his arms wide and slowly rose into the air as a wave of cultists charged, screaming incoherent war cries as they wildly sprayed lasbolts in the Eldars' general direction.

The battle cries were cut off by screams of pain mixed with ecstasy as another squad of Eldar Guardians leapt out of cover and loosed a volley of shurikens. The cultists' return fire, as much as Iyitebu believed such a thing were impossible, proved even more scattered and inaccurate than before. Far more ammunition was used to vaporize dirt and singe the barricades than killing Eldar. Only through sheer luck did one shot find its mark. The unlucky Guardian's head snapped back, the lasbolt having pierced through one of her eyepieces and reduced her face to a bloody crater.

"Take down that Eldar!"

At the rear of the Eldar position, an Eldar Dire Avenger had vaulted over cover and made a mad dash for the forward barricades. Lasbolts and stubber rounds impacted the ground around his feet as he zigzagged between the cultists' lanes of fire. A lucky stubber round struck him in the middle of the chest, the bullet flattening and failing to penetrate but still staggering the Aspect Warrior. Before the cultists could exploit their good fortune, Guardians in neighboring positions noticed their comrade's plight and sprang out of cover, filling the air with shurikens. A horde of cultists that had charged ahead of the main body, brandishing their lasrifles like clubs, were cut down to a man and the survivors were forced into cover.

When the cultists finally recovered their nerve, the Dire Avenger had already reached the safety of the forward barricade. Many turned around and ran as the Aspect Warrior sprang back up and rested his Shuriken Catapult on the lip of the trench. Iyitebu's mouth distended to unnatural proportions and he unleashed an unearthly wail upon the unsuspecting Eldar. Several fell to the ground, their souls ripped straight out of their bodies. Death-screams filled the air as the tendrils of Warp-stuff bought forth settled into the trenches and rampaged amongst the Guardians within.

The wave of pleasure and pain and raw sensation that slammed into Iyitebu was enough to arouse even his deadened senses. The Prince of Pleasure was pleased, and the sorcerer could feel his flesh boiling and twisting, reshaping into a new and better form. He wept tears of joy and sang praises to his patron as he beheld his new limb. Attached to his shoulder blade, the new appendage writhed and swirled around the sorcerer's form. The sight of such generosity from the Lord of Dark Delights drove the surrounding cultists into a berserk frenzy, and they burst out of cover and charged the Eldar lines. All shouted battle cries, and some foamed at the mouth.

Still disoriented from the psychic attack and caught unaware by the sudden charge, the surviving Guardians broke and ran. The cultists showed no quarter, hounding them and pulling them to the ground before ripping them apart in a savage fury. Iyitebu swooped in for the kill, choosing an Eldar at random and tearing the soul from his body. Iyitebu savored the soul's final desperate cries as it was dragged into the Warp to be tortured for all eternity by the Prince of Pleasure.

Iyitebu's rampage was cut short when nearly two tons of Knightmare smashed into him, shattering every bone in his body.

* * *

"Battalion, form _ranks_!"

Irosa had first touched down on Altansar as a faceless rifleman, one of many in Warmaster Thoghona's legions. On the killing fields around Sprannano, they had nearly broken through the Eldar lines when the Black Knights arrived. The almost-certain victory suddenly turned into a disorganized rout, and his squad soon found themselves face-to-face with one of the enemy's dreaded metal titans. All but Irosa had perished, but a combination of desperation and sheer luck allowed them to severely wound their attacker. Noticing his followers flocking around the sudden hero, Thoghona promoted the former rifleman to a battalion commander.

Unlike the cultist rabble running and dying all around them, the soldiers under Irosa were well-trained and disciplined, almost all of them former Imperial Guard. As soon as the command was given, they used any measure up to and including bludgeoning through their own allies to reach their commander. Even as a half-dozen of the dreaded metal monsters ripped through allied forces, even as Eldar rockets and monofilament webs rained down from the skies, they remained calm and disciplined. With a silent speed and efficiency born out of countless hours on the drill ground, they formed up into a firing line five men deep and stood perfectly still as the slaughter raged around them.

The tactics were primitive, but bitter experience had taught Chaos forces that there were no shortcuts in taking down a Knightmare. They needed large quantities of firepower pointed downrange to even have a prayer at penetrating the enemy's thick armor. They needed to swarm the enemy and bring them down through sheer weight of numbers.

"Battalion, present _arms_!"

Lasguns shouldered and pointed straight ahead, the forward row knelt down to allow the soldiers behind them a clear shot over their heads. Even as the two-ton beasts drew closer and closer, the whirring of their exotic bladed weapons and the screams of the dead and dying growing ever louder, they took not a single step back. Irosa allowed them a moment longer to adjust their aim before giving the command.

"Battalion, volley _fire_!"

They fired with no regard for their allies, sending a wall of lasbolts downrange. Dozens of cultists were caught in the thick of it and simply ceased to exist above the knees, their flesh vaporized by the onslaught. Even those standing at the edges of the battalion's firing lane were flash-cooked by the sheer heat. The few bolts that did reach the Knightmares splashed harmlessly off of their armor.

"Battalion, adjust _aim_! Volley _fire_!"

A few cultists had dove towards the ground fast enough to avoid the first volley. Dozens more, either unknowing or uncaring of their allies' fates, ran out into the battalion's field of fire. The tidal wave of cherry-red bolts that followed Irosa's command cut down both groups alike. One of the Knightmares actually staggered, several deep gouges appearing in his armor.

"Battalion, volley _fire_!"

Irosa's soldiers stayed in their spots on the firing line even as the Black Knights turned their full attentions towards them. Hadron bolts riddled the formation, scything through their flak armor with ease and felling them by the dozen, and they still kept their lasguns shouldered and awaited the next command. When one man fell, the one behind him simply stepped up and took his place on the line. Several of the enemy had stowed their machine guns and drew their hadron sabers, leaning forward and charging the firing line at full tilt. They caught the brunt of the next volley. Not even rutalium carbide was proof against so many lasbolts from so close a range. One of the attacking Knightmares went limp and tipped forward, its momentum burying it deep into the soil.

"Battalion, fix _bayonets_!"

The soldiers of Chaos drew and fixed their bayonets with so fluid and quick a motion that an untrained observer would have missed it entirely. With the distance between them and the charging OPAW troopers now measurable in meters, they shifted their stances in perfect synchrony. Lasguns pointed out and at a slight upwards angle, torso leaning slightly forward, legs shoulder-width apart. The soldiers in front knelt down on one knee, and the ones behind them with one foot planted in front of them and the other digging into the ground behind them. Even the famed Death Riders of Kreig would hesitate to charge such a formation.

Unfortunately, they were facing troopers of the 10th Planetary Assault Wing, not the Death Riders of Kreig. Irosa drew his laspistol, watching in mute horror as the Knightmares crashed straight through his troops, smashing them aside and grinding them to paste beneath their landspinners. The sounds of bone snapping and flesh tearing, of the wounded and dying crying out, assailed his ears. The last thing Irosa ever saw was a crimson blade speeding towards him.

* * *

The flak armor-clad Chaos soldiers screamed in terror as Kallen landed amongst them, her claws sheathed in hadron fields and stained dark red with blood. Several threw down their lasguns and ran, while others stumbled backwards and started wildly spraying lasbolts in her general direction. The few that did not harmlessly splash against the Gurren-Seraph's defenses sailed past the Knightmare and ripped into the hordes of Chaos cultists surrounding the melee. Kallen decapitated several enemy soldiers with a single swing before unleashing a carefully-controlled burst from her Radiant Wave Surger. Dozens fell to the ground, screaming and clawing at their skin as their flesh boiled and burst.

An unearthly wail filled the air, and dozens of cultists beyond Kallen's range lifted into the air, their limbs contorting and their bodies twisting into unnatural angles. The sickening crack of bones breaking reached her ears, and the screams of agony died down to a pathetic keening. Kallen launched herself towards the unholy sight, the hadron fields around her claws taking on a slight blue tinge as she pumped a portion of her psychic power into them. The trio of Psychic Special Warfare operatives assigned to the mission seemed to have the same idea, flashing into existence amongst the transforming cultists and shredding them with rapid slashes of their monomolecular blades.

One of the Daemonettes launched itself at the closest operative, latching onto him and tearing off chunks of armor with its razor-sharp claws. To his credit, the operative stayed deadly calm, grabbed the unholy creature by the back of the neck and smashed its face against his knee. The screech of pain and rage was cut short when the Knightmare smashed its fist, now sheathed in psychic energy, into the Daemonette's stomach and then through it. The Slaaneshi daemon's body twisted and bubbled, then disintegrated.

The operatives moved with blinding speed, rapidly parrying the remaining Daemonettes' blows with their monomolecular blades before going in for the kill. One of the operatives apparently misjudged a swing with the lethal-but-fragile blades, and Kallen adjusted her course ever-so-slightly to avoid the flying blade tip. A screech of pain from behind caused Kallen to whirl around just in time to witness a previously-unnoticed daemon, the tip of a monomolecular blade buried in its forehead, turn to dust.

Kallen reached the melee just in time to ram her clawed hand through the final Daemonette's stomach. The beast screeched and struggled, clawing uselessly against the Guren's thick armor. With a burst of psychic energy from the Knightmare's wearer, the Daemonette exploded into a thousand chunks of Warp-stuff.

"Fan out! There's plenty more where those came from!"

Though they had disrupted one summoning, more had obviously taken place. A horde of daemons crashed into the Eldar forces, driving the defenders back inch by inch despite their best attempts to shore up their lines. Down below, Kallen could see several of her troopers circling a Keeper of Secrets, pumping hundreds of hadron bolts into the foul beast. The Slaaneshi greater daemon howled in rage, swinging its dual swords in every direction. Kallen cringed internally as she saw an OPAW trooper cleaved in half by a wild swipe.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
Six Hours Later**

The thought of a weapon controlled by a nearly-dead soldier permanently wired into a life-support coffin sent chills up many a Black Knights' spine, and Kallen was no exception. At the very least, Astartes Dreadnoughts possessed an air of calmness and wisdom when they were not trampling across the battlefield to crush the Emperor's enemies. Their corrupted brethren possessed no such quiet dignity.

As she faced down one of the massive war machines, Kallen found herself unnerved far more by the Chaos Dreadnought's pilot than its massive weapons. Living only to experience ever-greater levels of pain and pleasure, internment had driven the fallen Astartes to an even deeper level of insanity than his brethren. His tormenters even left the faceplate off, exposing his mutilated and insanity-contorted face. Even worse was the _screaming_. Not one of the thousands of campaigns she had personally lead—not Viradium's descent into the Warp, not the Dark Eldar citadel on Zanitini, not even the Necron fortress of Minerion—could drown out the memories of her first encounter with a Chaos Dreadnought.

Cut off from the sensations they so craved, Chaos Dreadnought pilots screamed nonstop until their throats gave out. The fact that he still could scream told Kallen that she currently faced a newly-interred victim. His sanity had yet to fully leave him, making him even more dangerous than a veteran Dreadnought. Upon spotting her, he had charged her at full tilt, trampling any Eldar unlucky enough to stand in his way and smashing aside several Knightmares to reach her.

With a far greater agility than the Guren's bulk would suggest, Kallen dodged the Chaos Dreadnought's Power Scourge swing. Twisting her body around, she slid around her opponent and into his blind spot. Her claws cut deep into the war machine's thick armor, exposing the delicate circuitry within. She rammed her other arm into the wound and unleashed several hadron blasts before jumping backwards to avoid the retaliatory blow. Her opponent's torso rotated one hundred and eighty degrees to face her, but the servos' tormented screeching told her that the attack had damaged something important.

An unholy wail filled the air, and Kallen threw herself to the side to avoid the enemy's sonic weaponry. His screams of rage joining those of his weapon, the entombed Astartes swiveled around in broad sweeps in a futile attempt to hit the fast-moving target. Kallen dove under the Power Scourge and gripped the Dreadnought's leg with her clawed hand. The armor plate bubbled and cracked before bursting into a thousand bits of shrapnel. Several pieces bypassed the Guren's hadron fields and embedded themselves into the Knightmare's armor, but Kallen pressed the attack, hacking away at the now-exposed circuitry.

With a roar of anger and desperation, the Dreadnought charged forward and rammed into the Guren, sending the Knightmare staggering back several steps. It lost no time in exploiting the opportunity, swinging its Power Scourge around. Kallen recovered just in time to duck below the swing and caught several strands, wrapping them around her forearm and severing them with her claws. As the Dreadnought reeled from the damage, the crimson Knightmare charged forward, Radiant Wave Surger at the ready.

Rolling under the sonic blasts, Kallen closed the remaining distance between them and gripped the axle attaching the Dreadnought's heavily-damaged leg to its body. As her Radiant Wave Surger dismantled the limb, her other arm reached upwards and grabbed the first handhold they could find. The screeching of tormented metal filled her ears as, with a mighty tug, she bought the lumbering titan down. As the pilot screamed all manner of foul curses at her, Kallen severed the wires that fed power to the Dreadnought's Dual Sonic Blaster. With a second bolt, she reduced his head to vapor. To make triply sure that her opponent would not get back up, she destroyed the control sarcophagus with a burst of her Radiant Wave Surger.

* * *

Sergeant Kerri Heroux zigzagged up the ridge, weaving in and out between the shells and sonic blasts the Emperor's Children Chaos Space Marines rained down on her squad. A squad of Eldar Guardians charging alongside them was shredded by a tidal wave of bolter shells, and only Kerri's quick reflexes kept her from sharing their fate. She tried her best not to wince as several Howling Banshees took a direct hit from a sonic blast. They collapsed, screaming in pain and likely bleeding from a number of orifices as their very souls were flayed apart.

Kerri grabbed the hadron saber that popped out of its shoulder-mounted holster as she finally crested over the ridge, ramping into the air and decapitating an enemy Space Marine as she landed. She skid to a halt and wheeled around, drawing another hadron saber and quartering another of the Emperor's Children as he tried to bull-rush her. Two more of the twisted Astartes wheeled around, their bolters at the ready. They would have no chance to fire the weapons as another OPAW trooper landed behind them and sliced both of them in half at the waist.

Though they held a definite advantage in bulk and brute strength, the power armor-clad servants of Chaos had little hope of keeping pace with the Knightmares that tormented them. The Black Knights wove in and out between them, their hadron weaponry penetrating ceramite plate with frightening ease. Bolter shells and sonic blasts filled the air as the enemy desperately tried to counter the Knightmares' agility with sheer volume of fire. A lucky shot would occasionally down an OPAW trooper, but the rounds would bounce from impacting at such shallow angles or miss entirely more often than not. Off-target weapons fire claimed as many enemy lives as hadron blade and bolt.

Kerri was vaguely aware of several large objects lumbering through the enemy horde. She noticed the massive form shoving aside one of the Chaos Space Marines and bringing its weapons to bear far too late. The close-range burst of Storm Bolter shells shredded through her Knightmare's armor as if it were tissue paper.

* * *

"This is 3rd Squad! We're pinned down by enemy fire! Requesting reinforcements!"

"The Sarge is down!"

"4th Squad, wheel around to the right! We'll try to catch 'em in a crossfire with 7th Squ-"

The ground shook as a hundred Chaos Terminators stormed down the ridge, crushing resistance beneath their massive feet. The surviving OPAW troopers put up a valiant fight, but even they could not stand long before the sheer volume of firepower arrayed against them. Kallen could only listen helplessly as casualty reports continued streaming in on every channel. Every squad she rushed to help was wiped out before she could reach them. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Kallen would have sounded the withdrawal if somebody had not beaten her to the punch

"2nd Squad, focus fire on the right flank! Cover 5th Squad as they fall back! 9th and 10th Squads, bounding overwatch! 12th Squ-"

"This is a restricted military channel!" Kallen angrily interrupted the voice, "Identify yourself!"

"Have you already forgotten my voice," was the reply after several tense moments, "Q-1?"

* * *

**A/N:** The moment you've long waited for! I can only hope it will live up to everyone's expectations!

Additionally, I'm not sure about you guys, but I like to listen to music when I write (and sometimes when I read as well), so I thought I'd give this a try.

_Code Geass 50k_ Soundtrack:  
Title Sequence/Black Knights Theme: Union - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Beneath the Red Sands arc): Suicide Mission - Mass Effect 2 OST  
Insert Song (Great War/Great Crusade arc): The Lion from the North - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Craftworld Invasion arc)/Eldar Theme: Glorious Land - Sabaton  
Lelouch's Theme: Carolus Rex - Sabaton


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: Resurrection

**Disclaimer: **You know the drill. _Code Geass_ and _Warhammer 40k_. Not mine.**  
**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Resurrection**

**Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis  
Twelve Hours Prior**

The air seemed to grow increasingly heavy as the veil between the Materium and the maddening dimensions of the Empyrean once again thinned. Nunnally was the first to feel the effects, slumping against a stack of crates and massaging the bridge of her nose as a familiar presence weighed down on her. She waved off the guard detail as they moved forward to check her condition. Though not as finely attuned to the tides of the Warp as she, Suzaku was beginning to feel the presence as well, nervously shifting his weight between his feet.

The space before the Golden Throne crackled and warped, rippling and tearing as holes began appearing in the veil of reality. The militiamen accompanying the Black Knights' leaders sprang into action, taking what cover they could find and training the weapons on the distortion. The Psychic Special Warfare operatives unsheathed their blades, now aglow with psychic energy. A number of Companions surged forward, forming two concentric rings around the growing rift. The closer rank dropped to their knees, allowing all of them to train their Guardian Spears on the target.

The defenders relaxed slightly as CC stepped through the rift. Cloaked in the mighty soul of the Emperor of Mankind, her eyes ablaze with incomprehensible psychic power, the green-haired woman presented a magnificent and terrifying spectacle. She took several steps towards the Golden Throne, the rift sealing behind her. The ring of Companions broke apart, its constituents reforming into an honor guard around CC as the remaining Custodes rushed forward to line the staircase ascending the Golden Throne. Their Guardian Spears clashed together, forming an archway for the procession to pass under.

Several averted their eyes as the Emperor of Mankind's unfathomable psychic power flooded every corner of the Sanctum Imperialis and beyond. As far away as the Administratum offices of the Inner Palace, Psykers collapsed or were struck blind.

* * *

The Tech-Priests attending to the Emperor's dessicated form halted in their tasks as CC approached. They fell to their knees as the Master of Mankind's mighty soul drew closer. The green-haired woman paid them no mind, strolling up to the withered corpse and stopping mere centimeters from the jungle of cables and tubes that surrounded it. Several of the Custodes and Tech-Priests looked on in curiosity as CC brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her view, leaned forward, and kissed the withered corpse on the lips.

A psychic shockwave spread far and wide as Lelouch's soul returned to his body. A blinding flash engulfed the Golden Throne as millions of pinpricks of light left CC's form and began swirling around the Emperor's. Several Tech-Priests looked on in panic and despair as the apparatus surrounding the body began sparking and smoking, even catching fire, but none rose from their bow. The few not blinded by the light could muster no emotion save barely-contained awe as the Emperor's eyelids slowly fluttered open, revealing a pair of deep violet irises.

Parts of the Golden Throne began crumbling and falling away, even disintegrating entirely as the Emperor's newly-reoccupied body freed itself from the restraints. The withered corpse slowly stood up and took several experimental steps forward, causing the Tech-Priests and Custodes to bow even deeper than before. Descciated flesh sloughed off, leaving only a skeleton and those vivid violet eyes. The few still able to gaze upon the sight before them saw muscle and organs and flesh seemingly burst forth from Lelouch's bones and weave together.

Restored to his full glory after nearly two hundred centuries and wreathed in the flames of his own unimaginable psychic powers, the Emperor of Mankind spoke.

"Subjects of the Imperium, rejoice. For I walk amongst you once again."

* * *

**?  
The Rock**

His mind broken by torture and his body broken by time, the pathetic form that was once Luther initially could not comprehend the sight before him. A magnificent giant towered over him, his face familiar and gentle. Comprehension slowly dawned upon him as the ripples of the Emperor's restored psychic might slowly permeated through his soul. Luther's shattered psyche slowly pieced itself back together, and his mind became clear for the first time in millennia. The full weight of his sins crashing down upon him, he threw himself at the giant's feet, begging forgiveness.

"Hush, brother," Lion El'Jonson knelt down and gently raised Luther's battered face to look him in the eye, "All is forgiven."

Cypher and a retinue of Dark Angels, alerted that something was amiss when the unceasing ravings of a madman fell silent, rushed into the hidden chamber moments later with weapons raised. The first sight to greet them was their long-lost Primarch kneeling over Luther's lifeless body. Weapons were lowered, and the Dark Angels knelt in fealty before their lord.

* * *

**Ultramarines Strike Cruiser _Palantine  
_Orbit of Mars**

The harrowing retreat from Macragge to Terra had cost the Ultramarines dearly. Massive Warp storms pounded the fleet, the violent currents ripping apart dozens of ships. Gellar Fields and Warp Drives failed, dooming thousands to an eternity of torment at the hands of daemons and Warp-beasts. Even the mighty Battle Barge _Caesar_ fell prey to the Warp's madness, destroyed mere days from Terra. Hundreds of Battle-Brothers, almost all the Ultramarines remaining suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armor, and most of their ammunition and weapons stores were lost with the mighty warship.

In the confusion surrounding the retreat from Macragge, the Thunderhawk bearing the Roboute Guilliman's body veered off-course and wound up aboard the Strike Cruiser _Palantine_ rather than the _Casear_. The sheer amount of mayhem in orbit made it unacceptably risky to transfer their Primarch to the Battle Barge, and he remained aboard the _Palantine_ for the journey. Only this fortuitious accident prevented the Ultramarines from suffering a crippling blow to morale on top of the crippling blow to their fighting strength.

Now the _de facto_ flagship of the Ultramarines Chapter Fleet, the _Palantine_ housed most of the Chapter's remaining fighting strength. The few remaining Battle-Brothers took turns guarding the chamber housing Guilliman's body. The honor of keeping watch within the chamber itself fell to a Captain by the name of Severinus Traianus when the psychic shockwaves of Lelouch's resurrection reached the Strike Cruiser.

* * *

For Severinus, the first warning sign was the sudden migraine. A cold feeling washed over the seasoned Astartes, sending an unpleasant tingling up his spine. His gut told him that the signs all pointed toward powerful Warp sorcery, and his instincts were rarely wrong. His eyes slowly scanned the chamber—itself easily large enough to hold the Captain, Guilliman, and the life support apparatus keeping the latter alive with plenty of room to spare—as he shouldered his bolter.

Severinus' eyebrows knit in confusion as his gaze settled on Guilliman's body. He was fairly sure the wound in his Primarch's throat was slightly larger just seconds before. A flash of movement caught the Ultramarine's eye, causing him to whirl around and ready his bolter. He lowered his weapon just as quickly when he saw that the only thing in his sights was his Primarch's hand. Traianus' hearts actually skipped a beat when his gaze travelled up to Guilliman's face. The shrinking wound and the moving hand, he could explain away as a trick of the light coupled with the stress of the current situation. The Captain would bet on his honor, however, that Guilliman was _not_ looking directly at him moments before.

"To arms, Battle-Brothers!" Severinus bellowed into the vox, "Something is amiss within the Primarch's chamber!"

Several fully-armed Ultramarines, with bolters shouldered and fingers on the triggers, burst through the door moments later. A series of percussive _thuds_ announced the Terminators filing into the corridor beyond. A chill went up Severinus' spine as he felt a massive shadow fall over him.

"You have endured much, but surely the sight of your own Primarch should not be a cause for alarm," a booming voice gently chided.

* * *

**?  
Craftworld Altansar**

The brutal meat grinder that was the ongoing battle for Altansar had drawn most of the Craftworld's military forces to the surface, leaving the labrynth of corridors within virtually deserted. That suited the lithe figure silhouetted in the soft blue glow of the Webway Nexus just fine. Long, slim fingers raced over the arcane controls, greatly expanding the gateway and overriding a number of the Nexus' defenses. He stepped back to admire his handiwork as the steady blue pulsing sped up and grew increasingly erratic.

As the psychic ripples from Terra surrounded and engulfed him, the figure threw his head back and allowed the currents to lift him into the air. Psychic energy began leaking from every orifice of his body, surrounding him in a brilliant aura visible even within the Webway. Only the Craftworld's psychic defenses and his own seemingly-infinite mental fortitude kept the creatures of the Warp at bay. Even then, there existed only a brief opportunity before even such formidable defenses were overwhelmed.

The aura dissipated, and the figure fell to the ground. His strength spent, he wearily struggled to his feet and was confronted with a mountain of flesh and ceramite. Standing before him was a titan clad head to toe in golden armor and wielding a great scimitar. The towering man extended a hand, which the exhausted figure gratefully took. Shakily standing up, he merely nodded at the giant. There would be time for rest later: now, the soul of Altansar hung in the balance.

Without a word exchanged, Primarch Janghatai Khan and the Phoenix Lord Maugan Ra turned and left for the surface.

* * *

**Black Knights 15th Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Hastily erected from prefabricated buildings flown down from orbit, the 15th Miltia's Field Headquarters nonetheless rivaled an equivalent Imperial facility in data-processing capability and was packed with enough advanced technology to make even the most senior Tech-Priest salivate. High-resolution scanners swept the Tharsis region, the electronic eyes seeing everything from the Imperial and Black Knights ships in orbit to the geothermal pockets that the surrounding forges drew power from. Communications relays coordinated not only the units of the 15th Militia Group but also received constant updates from the rest of the Theater Group.

"Ma'am, sensors have picked up Warp activity in the upper atmosphere. Tentatively tagged as a spontaneous Warp rift."

A pulsing dot appeared on the holographic tactical display.

"Do we have anyone in that area?"

A blinking box appeared around a cluster of blue triangles.

"The Excaliburs of Behemoth squadron are already on the scene. They should be reporting in momentarily."

"Ma'am," a communications technician announced, "Incoming transmission from Behemoth Leader. Should I patch him through?"

Colonel General Majka nodded once.

"This is Behemoth Leader to Field HQ, repeat, this is Behemoth Leader to Field HQ."

"Confirmed, Behemoth Leader. This is Field HQ. Go ahead."

"The anomaly disappeared shortly before we arrived on-scene, but residual radiation confirms a momentary Warp rift. Something's definitely passed through, and we are pursuing now."

"Roger, Behemoth Leader. Keep me updated."

A moment of silence followed before the channel opened up again.

"This is Behemoth Leader to Field HQ, the object appears to be in freefall. Transmitting projected impact site now."

A pulsing dot appeared on the tactical display, indicating an area several kilometers west of the 15th Militia's field headquarters.

"Contact all outposts in that area!" Lilia turned towards the nearest unoccupied communications officer, "I want a recon team on-scene as soon as possible!"

"This is Behemoth Leader to Field HQ! Preliminary scan results indicate the presence of ceramite. The density and quantity suggest Astartes Power Armor. Also detecting faint life-signs…Behemoth squadron, pull up! Pull up!"

"This is Field HQ to Behemoth Leader, what's your status! Come in, Behemoth Leader!"

"This is Behemoth Leader to Field HQ, transmitting site of impact now," the dot shifted almost imperceptibly and stopped pulsing, "We are holding position over the area and awaiting arrival of ground forces."

* * *

**Black Knights Drop Shuttle _Bombshell Betty  
_Vicinity of the Asteroid Belt**

"Target confirmed. Begin docking procedures."

Generators beneath the drop shuttle's armored skin flared up, snaking invisible tethers between it and its prey. The deck plates rumbled slightly as the gravitric lines latched on and began pulling the other shuttle closer, stopping when mere meters separated the two hulls.

"Deploying docking umbilical. Boarding teams to standby."

* * *

"So, Sarge, what's the word on this thing?"

One of the Knightmares turned to face the speaker. A largely reflexive gesture, considering the existence of suit-to-suit communications.

"It's an old design, even by Imperial standards. Mainly used to quickly transport VIPs through warzones. Last used during the early thirty-first millennium, around the time they call the Horus Heresy. The Mechancium's long since lost the means to produce more, and the years have claimed those already in service."

The passenger compartment lurched as the docking umbilical attached to the other shuttle, sealed, and began inflating.

"The outer armor plate's a lattice of plasteel and ceramite, capable of taking several direct lascannon bolts. Even with hadron sabers, it'll take a while to cut through it."

The belly-mounted bording hatch popped open moments later, and the Knightmares began filing through. The lead Knightmare ignited his hadron saber and slowly plunged it into the armor plating. True to the Sergeant's word, the plates hardly grew hot even as the antimatter blades slowly bit through them.

"Shuttle first dropped out of the Warp about half an hour ago. Gave our fleet quite a scare, and they nearly blasted it out the sky. Would have, too, if it weren't broadcasting a valid Imperial IFF. A very old, very specific one. It was actually flagged in our archives."

The breaching Knightmare sheathed his blade and stepped aside, allowing the next Knightmare in line a turn.

"Our intelligence department at the time identified this shuttle as the personal transport of Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard Legion."

* * *

**Golden Throne  
Sanctum Imperialis**

The psychic pyrotechnics abruptly ceased, and Lelouch slumped forward. Several pairs of hands caught him before he hit the unforgiving ceramite and gently lowered him to the ground. A nearby Companion stepped forward, removing his cloak and gently draping it over the Emperor's naked form. A Psychic Special Warfare operative phased into existence, a field medkit in his hands. He knelt down and pressed two fingers to the side of Lelouch's neck.

"How is he?" CC asked the question on everybody's minds.

"He's breathing," the operative reported matter-of-factly while staring at the diagnostic unit now in his hands, "Lifesigns appear stable. Mentally, however…feels like I stepped right into an Eldar Mind War."

"We need to get him onto the _Ikaruga_," Nunnally announced, "We have facilities that can treat this sort of thing."

The Companions suddenly closed ranks, alarming the Black Knights delegation. The militia troopers closed around Nunnally, hadron assault rifles shouldered. CC's hand gravitated towards her saber, while Suzaku readied to draw one of his Force Swords. Psychic Special Warfare operatives flashed into existence, swords already drawn and at the ready. Everyone relaxed ever-so-slightly when Captain-General Caius Quintinus shoved his way through the phalanx and dropped into one knee.

"I apologize if my comrades' reactions have caused you any alarm," the Custodian bowed his head, "However, the Companions have accompanied the Emperor since the Legio Custodes' founding. They merely wish to be allowed to continue that duty."

Nunnally nodded imperceptibly.

"We're going to need more drop shuttles," CC remarked.

The adepts of the Imperial Palace were in for a great shock that day as a grand procession of Custodians marched through the hallways, banners aloft and the Emperor's body at the center.

* * *

**Combat Information Center, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_017.M51**

A medical team was already waiting on the hangar deck as the small convoy of drop shuttles touched down. CC, Nunnally, and Suzaku remained just long enough to see the stretcher-bound Lelouch and his entourage of Custodians disappear through a set of blast doors and into the _Ikaruga_'s labyrinthine corridors. As soon as the armored bulkhead cycled shut, CC grabbed her two companions and performed a rather impressive hop, depositing them right in the middle of the combat information center. Several of the guards raised their hadron assault rifles as the trio appeared before lowering them again just as quickly. The command center staff hardly paid them any attention, though a few twitched towards their hadron pistols.

Since arriving nearly half a day before, the three had hardly moved, their eyes glued onto the tactical display at the center of the room. The mass of red slowly pushed forward as the blue and green slowly dwindled in size. The staff had switched on their external audio feeds, the only acknowledgement they made regarding their leaders' presence. The last few minutes bought little but casualty reports.

"We've just finished decoding the latest sitrep from the _Caerleon_," one of the Knightmare-clad technicians approached, data slate in hand.

Nunnally took the offered data slate and glanced over the text. Any hopes of good news were immediately dashed. The sheer firepower of the Chaos attack force proved even greater than initially estimated: the remnants of the 10th and 17th OPAWs found themselves clashing with endless waves of cultists, Chaos Space Marines, and even daemons. A sudden attack had effectively routed the Black Knights forces, and Kallen was currently making a futile effort to rally her troops.

"We've received a visual feed from the ground forces. Patching it through now."

The video only worsened the situation. Giant, hunchbacked ceramite titans waded through a frightening amount of hadron bolts, casually swatting aside Knightmares. Their fearsome weaponry chewed through hadron fields and ripped through rutalium carbide.

"Tactical Dreadnought Armor, better known as Terminator Armor. Cataphractii pattern, if I'm not mistaken. I'd originally intended to standardize it for all the Legiones Astartes, but then the rebellion happened, and there was no time."

The three of them whirled around to see a paler-than-usual Lelouch standing in the doorway, shakily supporting himself with a Guardian Spear. The sight of the two Companions flanking him caused the Knightmare guards to grip their weapons a little more tightly.

"Onii-san!" Nunnally rushed forward, "You shouldn't be standing up! You're still far too weak!"

Lelouch placed a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder before pushing past her and into the combat information center. He immediately made a beeline for the main tactical display.

"Is this the current situation on Craftworld Altansar?" he asked nobody in particular.

Suzaku nodded his head in response. Lelouch spared the one-time Knight of Zero a glance before turning back to the display. His eyes swept over the battlefield, taking in the position of each triangle, friendly and hostile, and its position in relation to the others. The very air around him shifted, and for a second, CC could see the original Zero in his war room, putting the final touches on another strike against Britannia. Sensing what was about to happen, Nunnally stepped forward and offered Lelouch her communicator.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

Kallen went mute for a moment, wondering if she had finally succumbed to the stress and cracked. She was snapped back to reality by a flurry of radio chatter, all trying to identify the source of the voice and asking her for orders.

"All units, follow whatever directions that voice gives you!"

Acknowledgement came in the form of the channel falling silent and the remaining squads spreading out into the designated formations.

* * *

"4th Squad, suppression fire dead ahead until 7th Squad reaches point E7, then toss Chaos Mines and fall back to A3!"

The remaining Knightmares of 4th Squad held their hadron machine guns over their heads, barely clearing the lip of the crater, and began hosing down the area in front of them. As the incoming bolter and assault cannon fire died down, the troopers slowly rose to their knees and bought their weapons to their shoulders, never releasing their triggers as they did so. One of the oncoming Terminators staggered as several shots drilled straight through its reinforced breastplate.

"Focus your fire!"

Hadron bolts riddled the fallen Astartes, one piercing the eyepiece of his helmet and putting him down for good. The other Terminators paid no attention to their fallen comrade, and continued trudging on. One of the troopers staggered back, multiple assault cannon impacts having knocked the breath from his lungs and pitted his armor. One of his comrades yanked him behind cover just in time for a wave of bolter shells to sail over his head.

"7th Squad in position! Hose 'em down, boys!"

A storm of green spears ripped through the enemy ranks, reducing several of the mighty suits to scrap metal. One of the Terminators, a meson burst having vaporized his legs below the knee, tumbled to the ground, writhing in a curious mix of agony and ecstasy. Several others tossed aside now-useless combi-bolters and storm bolters and charged ahead, determined to hack the OPAW troopers to death with their power weapons. Another flailed around wildly, a glancing meson burst having set off some of his assault cannon's ammunition and the heat of repeated shots perpetuating the cook-off.

Several of the OPAW troopers became aware of a Psychic Special Warfare operative suddenly looming over them. His Knightmare's eyepieces flashed once, and the Terminator currently struggling to jettison his assault cannon suddenly jerked around as if attached to strings. Using the Tactical Dreadnought Armor's massive strength, he bought the weapon's recoil under control and calmly unloaded the remaining ammunition into his comrades' backs. When his ammunition finally ran out, he dropped the weapon, walked over to one of his fallen comrades, and picked up the abandoned storm bolter. A few of the OPAW troopers noted how closely his movements mirrored those of the operative's when he casually bought the weapon below his chin and pulled the trigger.

The few that survived the meson burst bombardment and their comrade's Psychic Special Warfare operative-induced betrayal were scattered by the flurry of Chaos Mines that followed.

* * *

Even with the benefit of inertial dampeners, Sergeant Melinda Klos of the 17th Raiders had to clench her teeth in order to not bite her tongue upon landing. Despite a ten-plus meter freefall, she had landed completely intact. The same could not be said for the Chaos Terminator that had unwillingly cushioned her descent. Without batting an eyelid, the Raider put her weapon to the thing's back and fired. She stepped off the rapidly-cooling corpse and drew a hadron saber just in time to parry an incoming Lightning Claw swipe, slicing straight through the matter-disrupting blades. As the adamantium titan stumbled forward, Melinda reversed her grip and rammed the blade straight through her opponent's helmet.

A short distance away, Lieutenant Ted Breslin was blindsided by a Chaos Terminator almost immediately after landing. Most soldiers would have surrendered at the sight of a Terminator bearing down on them, but Raiders were not "most soldiers." Ted rushed forward, preventing his opponent from bringing his combi-bolter to bear. Ducking beneath the swinging Power Fist, he slid around behind the Terminator and grabbed the first power feed his hands found. With a grunt and a mighty pull, he yanked the thick cable out of its housing. Unbalancing his opponent with a swift blow to the back of the knee, Ted triggered a Chaos Mine and shoved it into the gap between the Terminator's helmet and armor.

"That's enough!" the voice announced as Ted leapt clear, "Fall back to point A3 and hit the ground!"

The ground shook as the Raiders hurriedly disengaged and withdrew, a swarm of Chaos Terminators hot on their heels. The Lieutenant watched as a lucky bolter hit staggered one his troopers. The Private was decapitated by a Power Sword before he could recover. Bolter and assault cannon shells filled the air around the survivng Raiders, but a steady stream of hadron bolts prevent the incoming fire from becoming too accurate.

They threw themselves to the ground as soon as they reached the designated point. The reason soon became abundantly clear as a squad of Knightmares burst from the ground, FLEIJA Launchers loaded and ready. The warheads soared straight over the prone Raiders and ravaged the Terminators pursuing them.

* * *

With a roar, Kallen smashed through the layered adamantium-ceramite-plasteel plating as if it were mere flak armor. As her opponent vainly struggled, Kallen triggered her Radiant Wave Surger and cooked the Chaos Terminator alive from within. Withdrawing her hand, the redheaded general whirled around, slicing both the incoming Power Fist and the Tactical Dreadnought Armor attached to it to ribbons.

"Fall back! It's Fulgrim!"

Finding the location of the transmission wasn't difficult by any means. A Psychic Special Warfare operative sent soaring with a mighty blow from the Daemon Primarch had punctuated the report. Kallen whirled around to see a number of Eldar Guardians and Aspect Warriors rushing in, weapons blazing. With broad sweeps of his four blades, Fulgrim swept them aside with contemptible ease.

"Raiders, operatives, on me!" Kallen ordered as, with Radiant Wave Surger aglow, she charged the fallen Primarch.

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

"And with this," Lelouch announced to the combat information center's stunned silence, "I call check."

* * *

**A/N:** As the final battle draws near, the Emperor calls his lost sons to him!


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: The Daemonslayer

**Disclaimer:** This _Code Geass_ thing and this _Warhammer 40k_ thing? Not mine. I just use the equipment. Additionally, a huge shout-out to Heir of Empires, who's responsible for...well, I can't say it without actually spoiling it. I'll detail his contribution at the end. Look for his cameo, though!**  
**

**A/N:** And next on Craftworld-a-mania M51, Kallen Kozuki vs. Fulgrim! In all seriousness, I have a sneaking suspicion I might lose a few readers (or at least get a few angry PMs/reviews) over this one. Anyhow, here's the chapter, so you can make that decision for yourself.**  
**

*grabs an extra-large bag of marshmallows*

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Daemonslayer**

While Abaddon's forces ravaged the Imperium from without, crises of faith assaulted it from within. As billions died daily to stave off the inexorable advance of Chaos, many reaffirmed their faith in the Imperial Creed and the God-Emperor. However, a growing number of worlds, especially on the besieged fringes of the Imperium, experienced the opposite effect. The Ordo Hereticus dubbed the phenomenon the "Transitionist Movement," but it hardly deserved so grandiose a title. Many such movements rose and were exterminated in complete ignorance in one another. Their beliefs ranged from puritan to radical, but all agreed on one matter: to survive, the Imperium must change.

At first the Inquisition mercilessly stamped out such movements as they sprang up, but their attentions were soon drawn to more pressing matters as the Time of Dying marched on. As resources grew increasingly scarce, the Imperial Guard and Navy could hardly afford to turn away willing bodies, and the Transitionists formed long lines at recruiting stations. Even if not willing to die for the High Lords of Terra or the Ecclesiarchy, they were willing to die for Emperor and Imperium. Even then, they were viewed with thinly-veiled suspicion at best and as borderline heretics at worst.

Perhaps it was fitting that one of their number would become a beacon of hope in the dark days to come.

* * *

**Imperial Light Cruiser _Manus Iurius Beta_, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
Five Days Prior**

To say that the crash had totaled the Endeavor-class light cruiser would be grossly understating the damage. The comparatively tiny Imperial warship currently lay in pieces scattered over dozens of square kilometers of Craftworld Altansar's surface. Already damaged from the vicious Warp currents, the cruiser had shed great chunks of its hull during re-entry, and the stresses snapped its keel in several places. The _Manus Iurius Beta_ slammed into the ground at an almost-vertical angle, and gravity tore its already-stressed hull into pieces. Most of the warship's crew and troop complement had died almost immediately on impact.

The crash had not gone unnoticed, and though the Eldar counterattack was gathering steam, Fulgrim's armies diverted a sizable force to investigate the wreckage. Though disoriented, the survivors quickly rallied and fought back, driving back the initial assault at great cost. The Chaos forces provide persistent, determined to use weight of numbers to deplete the defenders' ammunition and sap their will to fight. Relentlessly attacked by day and shelled by night, thousands soon became hundreds as more and more of their number were killed in fighting or succumbed to heresy.

* * *

"Commissar, we're being overrun!" a panicked Imperial Guard Sergeant reported, "We've lost contact with the other positions!"

The blasphemous chantings and sanity-stripping litanies grew louder as the heavy stubbers and lascannons along the lip of the trench fell silent one by one. Lasbolts and autogun rounds peppered the hastily-erected fortifications as the Guardsmen crouched behind them retaliated with increasingly-ragged volleys. The Commissar remained silent as one of the Guardsmen, a piece of shrapnel having glanced off his flak vest and severed his jugular, fell to his knees, gurgling and clutching his throat for several seconds before expiring.

"I'm out!" the heavy stubber gunner protecting their stretch of trench called out.

The enemy forces took advantage of the lull in stubber fire to charge, screaming heretical battle cries and wildly spraying weapons firing into the crumbling rockcrete barrier. Several lasbolts broke through, most impacting harmlessly against the back of the trench but one drilling a Guardsman straight through the eyes. A box of stubber rounds tumbled out of his suddenly-slack hands, confirming the Sergeant's worst fears.

"Sir…" the Sergeant cautiously ventured again, trailing off as the Commissar shot him a withering glare.

Several lasbolts struck the Guardsman that sprang up to take the dead loader's place, killing him almost instantly. The stubber's barking started up again as the gunner finally fed a new belt of ammunition through. It fell silent again moments later as a lucky autogun round pulped the gunner's face. As the enemy drew closer, the Imperial Guardsmen began backing up and drawing their bayonets. Black-armored Imperial Navy Security Officers surged forward, the percussive _boom_s of their shotguns filling the air.

"Sir, we have to fall ba-"

"Sergeant Tyrone Wechsler, the charge is cowardice," the Commissar held his laspistol millimeters from the Sergeant's forehead, "The punishment: death."

The lasbolt drilled straight through the Sergeant's skull and exited out the back, punching through his flak helmet and splashing against the rockcrete barricade. After several moments of silence, the Commissar stepped over the Sergeant's rapidly-cooling body and peered over the lip of the trench. Seeing the heretics draw ever-closer, he drew his chainsword and thrust it into the air.

"Death or glory! Charge!"

He leveled his laspistol again when nobody moved from their positions after several seconds.

"Do you not hear me? Charge! Or do any wish to join the Sergeant over there?"

"With all due respect, sir," one of the Security Officers stepped forward, "We'll be cut down before we even reach bayonet range."

The Commissar froze for a second, in shock that a lowly Private would dare speak out against him. A cold fury took over seconds later, and he smashed his laspistol butt across the Security Officer's helmet, shattering his visor. Kicking the man to the ground, the Commissar stood over him, weapon at the ready.

"I take it that this coward here speaks for all of you?" he demanded, turning towards the others.

He interpreted their silence as assent.

"I make allowances for your beliefs because you're a good soldier, but you have gone too far this time!" the Commissar began, "Private Jeffrey Palmer, you are hereby charged with cowardice, insubordination, and fomenting mutiny. The sentence is dea-"

For the intimidation effect, the Commissar had risen to his full height. Unfortunately, the few seconds he took to pronounce the sentence upon the Private gave an enemy sniper ample time to line up a shot. He was cut off mid-sentence, a significant portion of his skull suddenly missing.

"What do we do now?" one of the Guardsmen whispered to nobody in particular.

"We survive," Palmer announced with a confidence that convinced the others to follow him.

Battle cries filled the air as hundreds of Imperial soldiers left their trenches and clambered over the barricades, bayonets ready, only for the enemy to mow them down to the man. Their numbers severely depleted by the futile charge, the Imperial line folded soon afterwards. Barely fifty Guardsmen and Security Officers, having chosen to remain in their positions, survived to fall back to the _Manus Iurius Beta_.

Unbeknownst to them, Fulgrim began massing forces for his assault on Parynor that very evening. What they did notice was the significantly smaller number of cultists and Chaos Space Marines desecrating the Imperial dead and fighting over the loot that evening. Seizing the opportunity, the surviving defenders of the _Manus Iurius Beta_ gathered what supplies and weapons they could and destroyed the rest. Their sole remaining Tech-Priest begged the Omnissiah's forgiveness as she set the cruiser's remaining systems to overload. Pushing past their exhaustion, they slipped past Chaos lines under the cover of night.

Barely twenty would survive the harrowing two day, one hundred and fifty kilometer journey to Espevar.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line, Surface of Craftworld Altansar  
017.M51**

As the assault cannon shells zipped past over his head, Edelion made a futile effort to sink deeper into the soft soil. When his neighbor, wielding a Fusion Gun, began to rise to his knees, the now-seasoned Guardian grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him face-first into the dirt. A nearby Guardian who had made the same mistake, but lacked a neighbor to pull him back down suddenly ceased to exist above the waist.

"Keep your head down!" Edelion screamed at his neighbor.

The other Guardian, likely a youth hurriedly rushed through training shortly before the Chaos siege, mutely nodded.

"We've got word from the artillery unit!" a nearby Guardian relayed, "Enemy counterbattery fire's wiped out half the battery and forced the rest to relocate! The support fire isn't coming!"

The mounting despair was instantly chased away by a crackling sound behind them. Several turned around just in time to see a trio of Black Knights sprinting towards the Chaos Terminators as they phased into existence. In a manner putting even Howling Banshee Exarchs to shame, they flowed past the enemy fire, finding even the smallest gaps in coverage.

* * *

"Cheap imitation Knightmares," Operative Amy Vales scoffed as she hopped a meter to the left and sliced the enemy Terminator's assault cannon in half.

"Don't get cocky!" one of the other operatives gently admonished as he reappeared above another Terminator, landing on the thing's back and driving his sword through his opponent's skull, "You saw how those things shredded through the OPAW troopers!"

Amy ducked under the enemy's retaliatory attack and severed the vulnerable power cables on his stomach. The Terminator went limp, and the operative took the opportunity to drive her blade through its relatively-thin stomach armor before the wearer could recover. The Terminator convulsed as she used the blade tip to project psychic lightning inside the armor.

Amy turned around in time to see the last member of their group busily slashing away at the third and final Terminator. He had lost his monomolecular blade at some point, but had somehow procured a Howling Banshee Power Sword to replace it. The weapon's unfamiliar characteristics threw off his balance, but he managed to last just long enough for a nearby OPAW squad to blow the Tactical Dreadnought to pieces.

"Fall back!" one of the OPAW troopers announced over an open channel, "It's Fulgrim!"

Amy reflexively threw herself backwards, twisting her body into a roll and emerging in a defensive posture. Her fellow operative lost his blade for the second time that day as the Daemon Primarch swiped him with his tail, sending him flying.

"Damn," the other operative whistled, "He still alive?"

"Alive," Amy glanced at the squad uplink, "But he'll probably wish he wasn't when he wakes up."

* * *

"Focus your fire! Bring that monster down!" Ted unnecessarily urged as the remnants of the 17th Raiders began circling Fulgrim at high speed.

Though the hadron bolts peppering his face obstructed his vision, Fulgrim swung with his four massive blades. Though they moved at speeds capable of leaving Space Marine Land Speeders in the dust, the Raiders began zig-zagging wildly, sometimes even changing direction entirely or dodging swipes with spectacular midair acrobatics. Several of them focused almost exclusively on drawing Fulgrim's attention, while the rest busily pumped him full of hadron bolts. Though they fought in almost total silence, the Raiders displayed a level of coordination that came only with experience. Despite switching off randomly to keep Fulgrim off-balance, no more than five Raiders were drawing fire at any given time.

"Raiders, operatives, on me!" Kallen's voice ordered over the channel.

Though most of the hadron bolts splashed harmlessly against Fulgrim's Warp-infused scales and daemonic armor, the constant bombardment kept the fallen Primarch enraged and focused on the circling Raiders. So occupied was he with smashing his Knightmare-clad tormenters that he failed to notice the rapidly-closing Guren-Seraph until the crimson Knightmare blindsided him.

"Watch your fire, men!"

* * *

Adrenaline flooded Kallen's veins, and the redheaded general entered a combat trance. Her field of vision narrowed until she saw only the serpentine Daemon Primarch before her. The chattering of a dozen hadron machine guns faded away, replaced only with a hollow ringing in her ears. The first swipe seemingly came in slow motion, and she easily caught the blade with her Radiant Wave Surger. The hadron field crackled as it held the daemonically-charged weapon back. Kallen shifted her body slightly, narrowly dodging a thrust and using her other hand on the flat of the blade to hold it away from her body. A mental twitch, and her Radiant Wave Surger ignited, shattering the first blade into a million tiny shards.

Kallen leapt into the air, narrowly dodging the other two swords as they closed on her with a scissoring motion. She lightly touched down on one of the swinging blades and used it as a springboard to launch herself to Fulgrim's face level. A stray thought, and her energy wings deployed. Not even a Daemon Prince could withstand a point-blank meson burst to the face, and Fulgrim staggered back, roaring in pain. The green spears had sheared off his horns and destroyed one of his eyes, sending the vain Primarch into a frothing rage. Kallen narrowly dodged the tail swipe, digging her claws into the ground to slow herself.

As the massive tail came in for a second attack, Kallen handsprung into the air, looking Fulgrim eye-to-eyepiece once again. He instinctively threw two of his arms before his face to shield it, but the expected meson burst never came. Kallen let herself fall, drop-kicking the wrist of his open hand on her descent. Whatever Fulgrim possessed in place of bones broke with a loud _snap_, and the Daemon Primarch howled in pain as he cradled the now-useless extremity. The ensuring flurry of wild swings, each more than capable of slicing the Guren-Seraph in half, proved so fierce that even Kallen backed away. A barrage of FLEIJA warheads sailed over her head, slamming into her opponent. Recovering, Fulgrim gave a derisive sneer as he swatted several out of the air before they hit. The rest made it through, blowing holes in his great purple-and-gold breastplate.

Howling in rage and pain, Fulgrim thrust his sword into the midst of the Raiders. One failed to leap away in time and was smashed underneath the massive blade. As the fallen Primarch tried to dislodge the weapon, one of the Raiders landed on the flat and deployed landspinners, FLEIJA launcher at the ready. With a dismissive expression, he released the blade hilt and grabbed the Raider. He took a moment to laugh at the Black Knight's struggling before crushing her while the others pumped hundreds of hadron bolts into his hand in a futile effort to make him release her. His remaining blades came around in a wide arc, slicing another Raider in two before the survivors withdrew.

Kallen roar of rage caught Fulgrim's attention, and he turned in time to see the crimson Knightmare sprinting up the stuck blade and leaping towards him, Radiant Wave Surger ready.

* * *

**?  
Craftworld Altansar**

"My lord, Lord Fulgrim has taken to the field. Word from the front says he has met the enemy general in combat."

Ralotharta regarded the thrall as one would a particularly revolting insect. Though the Chaos Sorcerer hardly moved and his helm hid his expression, he still radiated a dangerous aura. The heavily-tattooed and mutilated thrall visibly shook as he bowed before the former Librarian.

"No matter," Ralotharta spoke in a smooth, even voice, "Proceed with the ritual."

"Yes, my lord," the thrall bowed deeply and backed away, clearly relieved he would walk away alive.

Ralotharta circled the ring of chanting cultists, all beseeching the Prince of Pleasure to lend his power to their cause. Sanity-blasting images adorned the once-pristine wraithbone walls, drawn in the blood and phlegm and bile of slain Eldar and depicting unspeakable orgies. More Eldar lay tied up at the edges of the chamber, some struggling futilely against their restraints while others resigned themselves to their fate. Pots of incenses and perfumes surrounded the gathering, bringing any who breathed in the fumes to unimaginable highs of pain and pleasure.

The hulking Chaos Sorcerer came to a stop before the altar. Thirty-six soulstones, each inhabited by the soul of a Farseer or Exarch, lay before him, arranged in rows of six. The unwilling Eldar audience screamed in horror as he brought his staff up and smashed six of them. The screams of the damned souls reverberated through the chamber. The chanting cultists fell upon one another in a savage fury, engaging in a nauseating spectacle of violence. Men and women copulated with and eviscerated one another, sometimes both at once.

As the cries of pleasure and pain reached a fever pitch, Ralotharta raised his staff and smashed the next six soulstones.

* * *

**Eldar Defense Line  
Surface of Craftworld Altansar**

With the berserker fury she was famous for, Kallen rained blows upon Fulgrim. Even to his unnaturally-sharpened senses, the petite woman seemingly struck from several directions simultaneously. A jab to the chest, powerful enough to crack the Primarch's breastplate, drew his attention. By the time he swung his swords around to retaliate, Kallen had slid around him and landed a punishing drop-kick. A mental twitch triggered the Guren-Seraph's gravitric impellers and sent it flying. As Fulgrim's head wildly swung from side to side looking for the elusive crimson Knightmare, Kallen dropped back down onto his back.

The fallen Primarch howled in pain as he fell, but the redhead wasn't through with him yet. His eyes widened as she suddenly appeared under him. Just before he hit the ground, Kallen leapt up and landed a dozen jabs, each leaving a large dent on his daemonically-enhanced armor, in rapid succession. With a roar capable of sending greater daemons running in fright, she ended with an uppercut that shattered the Warp-forged metal and sent the Primarch flying backwards. His flight path was abruptly altered when Kallen flew up to his face level and landed a devastating roundhouse kick.

His vision swimming, Fulgrim pleaded to the Lord of Dark Delights for strength. As new strength flooded his body, the serpentine Daemon Prince stood up and swatted away the Raiders circling him. He grabbed a Psychic Special Warfare operative out of the air as he emerged from the Warp, throwing him to the ground. Before he could strike the finishing blow, Kallen blindsided him and sent him staggering back. She intercepted the retaliatory swing, grabbing Fulgrim by the offending forearm and igniting her Radiant Wave Surger. The limb simply vanished, eliciting a screech of pain from the traitorous Primarch.

Her knee hit with enough force to send a Baneblade flying, and Fulgrim fell to the ground. A savage battle cry issuing forth from her lips, Kallen leapt high into the air and descended, her Radiant Wave Surger at its highest setting. Seconds before the finishing blow landed, the Prince of Chaos once again intervened on his thrall's behalf.

For the first time in millennia, Fulgrim's eyes became clear as the daemon within was shoved into the recesses of his mind. He saw the crimson Knightmare now streaking towards him, but more importantly, he saw past the armor plating and saw the woman within. He had never seen her before, but there was familiarity there. The daemon's whisperings told him all he needed to know, and one word passed Fulgrim's lips.

"Mo-ther?"

* * *

Despite all her training, despite all her experience, that one word threw Kallen's mind into turmoil. It snapped her out of her battle trance. She suddenly twisted around in midair, her gravitric impellers bringing her to a skull-jarring stop. The crimson glow around her Radiant Wave Surger slowly dissipated as Kallen touched down several meters away.

"Wha-what did you just call me?" she forced through her suddenly-constricted throat.

A million questions raced through her psyche. The rational part screamed that it was obviously a trick by the forces of Chaos. After all, she reasoned, she would remember something like giving birth. Yet, the utter sincerity in Fulgrim's tone won over the other half of her mind. So absorbed in her thoughts was Kallen that she failed to notice the light leaving Fulgrim's eyes, replaced by cold fire.

Before she could say another word, a massive tail blindsided her and sent her flying.

* * *

"Shit! Protect General Kozuki!"

Fulgrim swatted aside the OPAW troopers that rushed forward with disdainful ease. An unearthly wailing filled the air as innumerable daemons tore their way into reality. The remnants of the 10th and 17th Orbital Planetary Assault Wings reluctantly broke off their desperate assault to deal with the more immediate threat. A smirk appeared on the Daemon Primarch's face as he towered over the fallen Guren-Seraph. Fulgrim picked up the crimson Knightmare as if it were a particularly despised toy and slammed it into the ground repeatedly.

"Even at the height of the Dark Age's wonders, artificial creation of life was impossible," the Daemon Prince taunted between blows, "It's known that the Primarchs are all descended from the Emperor, but have you ever wondered where the eggs came from?"

With savage glee, Fulgrim threw the Guren-Seraph to the ground. Kallen coughed and groaned in pain, her Knightmare's onboard medical foam dispensers struggling to stabilize her numerous internal injuries.

"A facility from the Dark Age of Technology, storing millions of genetic samples from all over the galaxy," Fulgrim continued to parrot the information whispered into his mind by the Prince of Chaos, "Twenty primarchs. Nine of them, including me, created from your genetic material, Kallen Kozuki. Another nine descended from the one you know as CC."

Fulgrim spared a glance at the renewed battle raging around him. Some of his arrogance vanished when he noticed a pair of figures carving their way through the daemonic horde, the few remaining Black Knights behind them. A small measure of fear wormed in his heart when he identified the larger of the two as Janghatai Khan and the other as Maugan Ra. Several dozen daemons and Emperor's Children Chaos Space Marines surged forward, piling atop the two. Yet, they continued to bludgeon their way through the Chaos forces.

Several hadron bolts and lasbolts splashed off Fulgrim's mangled face as he raised one of his remaining arms for the final blow. Pausing, he turned towards the source of the annoyance, laughing hysterically as he saw a lone Knightmare emerging from the encirclement of daemons. Laughter turned to confusion as he saw a handful of Imperial forces right behind.

* * *

Private Jeffrey Palmer allowed himself a quiet laugh as he ran, his lasgun shouldered and unloading into the daemonic titan before him. Refusal to embark on a suicidal charge had begun their journey, and it seemed a suicidal charge would end it. Yet, he didn't mind. Everything he believed, everything his creed had taught, he saw in the Black Knights. He nearly voided his bowels when Fulgrim turned to face them, but he never stopped running.

A daemonically-infused blade narrowly missed him, annihilating the half-dozen men to his left. A descending tail smashed Loraine into a pulp. A second blade came down, smashing another man and separating another three from the main group. Jeffrey tried to block out the screams as the daemons on the other side devoured them. He slowed, the finally stopped when he noticed he now stood alone before the Daemon Prince. Taking a deep breath to steady his, he re-shouldered his lasgun and kept firing.

"What's this? A mortal thinking he can stand before _me_?" Fulgrim bellowed, "You wouldn't even make a decent morsel!"

Jeffrey kept firing, paying no mind to the cracks forming in his psyche.

"Surrender now, throw yourself to the ground before me and beg mercy! Maybe then I will make your death quick, down you in a single gulp!"

Palmer fired his ch

* * *

arge pack dry, the last of the lasbolts striking Fulgrim in the eye. As he ejected the spent pack, a sudden roar of anger caught him off-guard. The Security Officer narrowly dodged the massive hand reaching out for him, dropping his last charge pack as he dove to the ground. Blinded by the dirt, he desperately felt around for another weapon. His hands closed around the first solid object they found, the surprising weight nearly wrenching his shoulder from its socket as Fulgrim lifted him up.

Attempting to wipe the dirt from his face, but succeeding only in smearing it further, Jeffrey cracked open his eyes to see one of the FLEIJA launchers he had seen the Black Knights use at Espevar. He shouldered it as Fulgrim bought him into his gaping maw, hands shaking slightly as he placed two fingers over the trigger. He failed to suppress a scream of pain as, with a sickening _crunch_, the Daemon Prince's teeth cut his body in two. As his vision slowly went dark, Palmer used the last of his strength to squeeze the trigger.

* * *

Feeling the FLEIJA launched down his gullet moments before it detonated, the daemon within Fulgrim's body tried to escape. It screamed in rage when Fulgrim's soul suddenly broke free of the chains that had bound him for millennia and latched on to it.

"You fool!" the daemon screamed, "You'll destroy us both!"

"You're staying right here with me," Fulgrim declared as the FLEIJA detonated, vaporizing Primarch, daemon, and Security Officer alike.

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

The strength left Lelouch's legs as the reports flooded in. CC rushed forward to assist him as he fell to his knees. Her eyes told him that she had a million questions, but she held her tongue for the time being.

"What," Lelouch's voice cracked, "What's the status of our forces on Craftworld Altansar?"

"10th OPAW is down to 15% fighting strength. 17th OPAW reports 25% fighting strength. Psychic Special Warfare report one dead, one wounded."

"And Kallen?" Lelouch urgently demanded.

"Reports indicate General Kozuki is in critical condition. Doctors aboard the _Caerleon_ are trying to stabilize her as we speak. They're heading back to the _Ikaruga_ to get her further treatment."

* * *

**?  
Craftworld Altansar**

Fulgrim's destruction sent massive shockwaves through the Warp. Thousands of Eldar fortunate enough to survive the battle for Parynor suddenly dropped dead, their souls ripped from their bodies. Hundreds of greater daemons were forcibly dragged back into the Warp, while many lesser daemons were destroyed outright. The Warp storm surrounding Altansar slowly began dissipating as, their advantage lost, the Chaos fleet began to withdraw.

None of that mattered to Ralotharta. Unimaginable levels of pleasure and pain surged through him as he carved out the final Eldar's heart and placed it on the altar. He could feel power flowing through him as his bones and flesh contorted. The Chaos Sorcerer loudly praised the Prince of Excess' name as he was elevated to Daemonhood. As he was spirited away into the Warp, bound for whatever Daemon World his master saw fit to grant him, Ralotharta saw the fruits of his labor.

The soft blue glow of the Webway Nexus gave way to the kaleidoscope of madness that was the Warp.

* * *

**Combat Information Center, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Ten Hours Later**

As much as they wanted to, the four immortals fought the urge to leave and check up on Kallen in person. They contented themselves with regular status updates as they made last-minute adjustments to the defenses around Terra. Lelouch seemed suitably impressed, though he and Suzaku debated at length over whether or not to allocate more ships from the defense lines to the mobile reserve. Suzaku's counterarguments were every bit as half-hearted as Lelouch's arguments, and the matter was ultimately dropped.

"We have reports that General Kozuki has just left surgery," one of the command center staff announced, bringing them the first piece of good news in nearly half a day, "She has yet to regain consciousness, but her condition is stable."

"Sir," one of the staff addressed Lelouch directly, "We have a transmission, source unknown. He insists he speak directly to you."

"Put it up on a terminal isolated from the main network," Lelouch nodded cautiously, a mysterious sinking feeling in his stomach.

Several hands instinctively went for weapons when Abaddon the Despoiler appeared on the display.

"Abaddon," Lelouch's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"So this is the Emperor of Mankind," Abaddon laughed, "I'd always imagined you would be taller."

Lelouch refused to rise to the bait.

"During the Great Crusade, your regicide skills were legendary," the Despoiler continued, "So tell me, have you heard of a move called the Blind Man's Mate?"

Abaddon's laughter rang in everyone's ears as he terminated the transmission. Lelouch, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, looked over at the main tactical map. Despite his best efforts, several minutes of staring at the display told him nothing was wrong. Every fleet was in the proper position, broad-spectrum sensor sweeps revealed nothing unusual, and Craftworld Altansar… Realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

"Get me a line to all ships in the outer system!" Lelouch ordered, "We need to move them back! Now!"

* * *

**A/N:** And there we have it! Another huge shout-out to Heir of Empires! The "the eggs for the Primarchs came from Kallen and CC" thing was his idea. And his cameo? Say hi to Jeffrey Palmer!

Yes, this chapter marks the end of the Craftworld Invasion arc. Let's see...Abaddon's down an army and Fulgrim. On the other hand, two elite units have been wiped out, Kallen is in critical condition, and there's still whatever Abaddon's got planned. Is this a case of The Bad Guy Wins? I'll also take this opportunity to once again promote this fanfic's TVTropes page. Really...I'm touched that the currently-sole contributor is so dedicated, but it would be cool to see what other readers think. End shameless advertisement.

And for those who want to keep score, yes, all Psychic Special Warfare operatives have a Geass. Johann can use people as an "index" of sorts to peer into the Akasic Record, but can only look up information that the person he's using said Geass on already knows. And if repeatedly losing his sword is a Geass, I guess we can say he has that as well. Amy has that freaky limb-control thing you saw her use on that Terminator. She can use it on anybody with a line of sight to her and has a reasonably humanoid body structure. Actually...didn't we see this one in the anime at some point? The third operative (his name's Darryl, by the way) can manipulate memories. Specifically, he can replace memories of him with those of other people, the catch being that he can only replace himself with people the person he's Geassing has seen before. Paranoia Fuel ahoy!

Also, more of the _Code Geass 50k _soundtrack!  
Kallen Theme: Heart of Courage - Two Steps from Hell  
Insert Song (Battle for Parynor): 1648 - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Kallen vs. Fulgrim battle): Battle Music - Witcher 2 OST  
Credits Theme: En Livstid i Krig - Sabaton

And before anyone asks if I mean 'A Lifetime of War' for that last one, the English and Swedish versions have different lyrics. Why, yes, I am a huge Sabaton fan. Why do you ask?


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: Home Soil

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, this _Code Geass_ and _Warhammer 40k_ thing? Don't own 'em.**  
**

**A/N: **Bit of a longer delay than usual, but here we go! Also, special thanks to Setokaiva, who pointed out numerous spelling, grammatical, and continuity errors throughout. I'll be updating the previous chapters over time, so look out for those!

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Home Soil**

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Edge of the Terra System**

Captain Lamont Maciver stood at the rear of the bridge, hands folded neatly behind his back as he passively started at the main tactical display. The sudden Chaos assault on their left flank had left the 17th Fleet confused and disoriented, and the enemy gave them no chance to recover. Cut off from its escorts, the _Pendragon_ weathered salvo after unrelenting salvo from its foes, kept in the fight only by the speed and efficiency of its veteran damage control teams. Even many days after the battle, the dreadnought remained far behind the allied skirmish line, its crew working double shifts to restore it to fighting condition.

"Sir," one of the bridge officers reported, "Engineering reports that they've done all they can for the Number Three drive. They advise not running it beyond twenty-three percent capacity."

Even with their millennia of combined experience, the _Pendragon_'s repair and damage control teams could only do so much. Though a steady stream of spare parts and additional technicians flowed from the fleet, many of the dreadnought's systems needed replacement of the type only a lengthy stay in drydock could provide. With the estimated time remaining until the main Chaos fleet's arrival now measured in mere hours, the Black Knights could ill-afford such a luxury.

"Repair teams have done all they can for the guns in Battery D," another officer spoke up, "The preliminary focus coils have actually fused with some of the internal circuitry. They've already submitted a requisition for new turrets, pending your approval."

"Tell them request approved," Lamont nodded.

"Repair teams report limited functionality restored to…"

A series of shrill, fast-paced beeps drowned out the rest of the message. The officer trailed off as the bridge exploded in activity. Orders and counter-orders and all manner of reports were shouted across the _Pendragon_'s bridge as communications technicians scrambled to verify the signal. Alarm klaxons blared as the crew hurriedly secured the dreadnought for jump.

"Emergency flash from the _Ikaruga_: all units beyond the fourth defense zone are to fall back and await redeployment instructions!"

"Plot a course," Lamont grimly ordered, "Start the countdown."

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

Lelouch placed the communicator down, wide-eyed and mentally reeling. A thousand possibilities and battle plans, each more hopeless than the last, raced through his mind. The combat information center was almost completely still, the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air. The silence cracked with the report that the defense line was slowly drawing back. It finally shattered as an avalanche of communications from Black Knights and Imperial warships alike, all asking for status updates, came crashing down. Lelouch stepped away from the tactical map display and joined his fellow immortals at the rear of the room. He kept his eyes planted firmly at the cold metal floor, but he could feel the questioning gazes on him.

"How could I have been so blind?" Lelouch asked nobody in particular, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

"Onii-san?" Nunnally slowly stepped forward.

"Abaddon's objective wasn't the Infinity Circuit," the Emperor of Mankind announced, "It never was. He sacrificed millions of his soldiers, thousands of his ships, even Fulgrim, to maintain the charade."

"You don't mean…" comprehension dawned upon CC's face.

Lelouch nodded once. Sensing the others' confusion, Lelouch took a deep breath and began slowly explaining.

"At the center of each Craftworld is an enormous Primary Webway Nexus, large enough to pass a fleet through. With a small cadre of powerful Psykers and sufficient sacrifices…"

"It would be fairly trivial to sever the Webway connection…" Nunnally interrupted, her eyes going wide.

"And use the gate to open a Warp rift," Suzaku finished.

"Yes," Lelouch nodded grimly, "The ritual probably took place when Kallen and the others were fighting to defend the Infinity Circuit."

"What's the projected arrival point of Craftworld Altansar?" Nunnally whirled around and demanded of the closest technician.

The Knightmare-clad trooper stepped back slightly, obviously unaccustomed to such behavior from the normally-taciturn governor. After a seconds' pause, he tilted his head slightly to the right as he pulled the relevant information up on his heads-up display.

"Approximately five hundred thousand kilometers out from Mars orbit, ma'am."

"All ships in that area are to load limiter-deactivated FLEIJA warheads immediately. Get me a channel with," Lelouch paused momentarily as Nunnally whispered the name to him, "Farseer Elehdibn."

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

Kallen's eyes shot open, the maddening geometries and impossible colors of the Immaterium immediately assaulting her senses. Gasping for air out of reflex, she bolted upright. Her gaze darted left and right, on alert for any daemons looking for an easy morsel. Shakily, she staggered to her feet, only to fall down again.

"Kallen," a voice whispered from behind and a delicate hand landed on her shoulder.

Well-trained muscles exploded into action as the redhead grabbed the hand and flipped its owner over her shoulder. A Force Knife appeared in her hands, and she bought the familiar blade down before she realized the identity of her assailant. Kallen stood up and backed away, the weapon falling from her hands, as Euphemia coughed and sat up. The blood disappeared and the wound sealed itself as she gingerly rose to her feet.

"I supposed I should have known better than to sneak up on you like that," the Guardian conceded.

"This is the Warp," Kallen numbly stated the obvious, "Am I dead?"

"Yes and no," Euphemia cryptically stated, "Your body took grievous injuries in your battle with Fulgrim. To protect itself, your soul separated from your corporeal form and found refuge in the Warp. Whether or not your soul returns is up to you."

"Is what Fulgrim told me," Kallen swallowed, her throat suddenly constricting, "true?"

"Yes," Euphemia nodded, "Twenty Primarchs. Nine of them created with eggs taken from you and frozen during the Age of Technology. Another nine from the one you know as CC. The remaining two were taken from Section Five of the Himalaya Gene Vault."

Despite the situation, Kallen laughed, "The Inquisition would throw a fit if they found out."

"Indeed," the Guardian nodded.

Before Kallen could ask any further questions, the pink-haired being tapped her staff once against the ground, turned around, and began walking.

"Come, Kallen Kozuki. There is something here you must see."

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

"What you ask is completely out of the question!" the holographic Farseer slammed his fist onto the equally-holographic table.

"Farseer Elehdibn," Lelouch's face remained calm and composed in the face of the Eldar's anger, "I would rather it never came to this, but you have to face the facts-"

"The facts?" the Farseer angrily cut Lelouch off, "_The facts?_ You propose to sentence millions of Eldar to their deaths? After they had fought so hard and sacrificed so much to save their home? It is a wonder your species has survived for so long, bombing everything to dust when you have so much as an inkling of Chaos! This goes beyond typical mon-keigh barbarism."

"Farseer Elehdibn," Lelouch's gaze hardened and his voice took on a lethal calm, "Even if we were able to spare the troops to prosecute a full-blown ground campaign, landing them would be difficult, if not outright impossible. Our attack broke the Chaos forces' back, but they still have millions of troops and daemons on Altansar's surface and hundreds of ships above. Despite the defenses you boasted so much about, the enemy managed to infiltrate and hijack your Primary Webway Nexus. How many troops do you think it would take to break through those defenses from the other side and face down the hordes of daemons undoubtedly pouring through right now?"

For the first time in millennia, Elehdibn was at a loss for words.

"Your Primary Webway Nexus allowed Chaos to bypass most of our defenses and strike Mars directly," Lelouch continued, "Mars falls, Earth falls. After that happens, who do you think Abbadon will come after next, Farseer? Your species has spent millennia running. How much longer do you think you can run in an entire galaxy bent on sacrificing your souls to Slaanesh?"

The Farseer visibly flinched upon mention of She Who Thirsts' name. The arrogance and anger slowly melted off his face, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I will inform the Farseer Council."

"Thank you, Eledibn. I assure you, we will exhaust every practicality before even thinking of firing the warheads."

"May the gods have mercy on my soul," the Farseer muttered as he closed the channel.

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

Time held little meaning in the Warp. Though mere hours had passed in the Materium, the two mighty souls looked as if they had fought without rest for years. One of them, a twisted and serpentine daemon of Slaanesh, fought with a brutal savagery. Its enormous swords swung in wide arcs, scything through the swirling psychic energies and any lesser daemons unfortunate enough to pass by. Trading blows and clashing blades with the foul daemon was the noble form of Fulgrim, freed from his imprisonment. Neither side could gain the advantage: every blow one could land was immediately returned, and every inch of ground gained was followed by an inch lost.

"The FLEIJA blast and the shock of losing its corporeal form weakened the daemon considerably," Euphemia explained, "Fulgrim seized the opportunity to break free and bind the daemon's essence to his soul."

Kallen could only mutely nod.

"Unfortunately, the blast weakened him as well. He lacks the strength to destroy the daemon—and by extension, himself—before it is fully restored. He has resolved to battle the daemon in the Warp for all eternity, to ensure it can never trick another soul as it did him."

"Why show me this?" the redhead angrily demanded.

"In the battle to come, you will face the fallen Primarchs in combat. Half of them are your flesh and blood, if nothing else. You must make a choice, Kallen. The same choice Lelouch made all those millennia ago on the _Vengeful Spirit_. Can you bring yourself to kill them?"

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Vicinity of Mars**

The kilometer-long warship came screaming out of the Warp, tearing through the weakened veil of reality with little trouble. Only the helmsman's quick reflexes prevented the dreadnought from running head-on into a stray lance shot. The _Pendragon_ inverted itself, blowing a Chaos Pestilaan-class Light Cruiser in two with a spread of FLEIJA warheads before joining the melee.

"IFF information decoded! Updating tactical map!"

"Viper Squadron launched and joining engagement!"

Even within the _Pendragon_'s comparatively-nonexistent visual range, hundreds of pinpricks of light appeared as more Black Knights ships jumped in. Thousands of slab-sided warships—Imperial, Chaos, and Mechanicum alike—slugged it out in every conceivable angle and orientation. Even the remnants of the Eldar fleet in-system joined in, harassing the enemy with hard-hitting lightning-fast attack runs.

When a rapidly-growing blob of red suddenly appeared on the tactical, Captain Maciver at first thought that the device had malfunctioned. When he had the display transmitted to his heads-up display, Lamont briefly wondered if a malfunction would have been preferable. He saw hundreds of red triangles packed so closely together that differentiating individual signatures proved near-impossible. Several Imperial ships broke away to engage the new Chaos fleet, but their readings disappeared long before they could have fired.

"This is Fleet Admiral Jez to all allied units! Keep the enemy off our dreadnoughts! We'll take care of the enemy reinforcements!"

"Sir," one of the communications technicians ran up to him, "Message from Fleet Admiral Seghers!"

Lamont nodded, opening the message and skimming the contents before uploading the coordinates to the navigators.

"Tactical jump to these coordinates. Start the countdown."

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

Almost as soon as the recall order went out, the Combat Information Center exploded into activity. Situation reports streamed in by the dozen, and even aided by computers, the dozens of technicians worked frantically to isolate the most critical updates.

"We have confirmation of daemonships joining the battle."

"Have Fleet Admiral Koch bring the 18th Fleet around. Try and catch them in a pincer movement with the 19th Fleet," Lelouch ordered without a seconds' delay.

"New Chaos fleet entering the system! Estimated strength at five hundred ships, but they're so tightly packed that it's hard to tell!"

Even Lelouch was impressed by the speed at which Fleet Admiral Janeka Lucine Jez analyzed the situation and redistributed her forces. Several Chaos squadrons broke away to attack the dreadnoughts, but only succeeded in drawing the escorts' fire. Strategically-placed FLEIJA volleys routed the attack force, and Excalibur-class attack craft relentlessly hounded the survivors.

"This is Admiral Finnin to all 20th Fleet ships: tighten your lines and weapons free! Don't let the enemy get close to our dreadnoughts!"

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Vicinity of Mars**

"All operational FLEIJA batteries report loaded and ready!"

"Beam Cannon Battery C reports still charging, seventy-four seconds left!"

"Firing solution uploaded!"

Though dwarfed even by Imperial corvettes, the Black Knights' Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts had quickly acquired a fearsome reputation amongst friend and foe alike. Despite the brutal melee raging around them, the dreadnoughts' movements did not go unnoticed by the Chaos fleet. As nearly forty of the kilometer-long warships fell into formation, their bows glowing an ominous dull red, the Imperial lines began parting to allow them a clear firing arc. Chaos ships rushed through the newly-opened gaps in a desperate attempt to stop the dreadnoughts' attacks but were quickly blown apart by surrounding escorts.

"Beam Cannon Battery C reports charged and ready to fire!"

"This is Fleet Admiral Jez to all dreadnoughts: fire on my mark! Three! Two! One! Mark!"

* * *

The onslaught that followed shattered the pitch blackness of space for hundreds of millions of kilometers in every direction. In the following days, Imperial and Black Knights crews alike would joke that Abaddon himself saw the blast. Thousands of FLEIJA warheads detonated amongst the Chaos fleet, wreaking massive havoc amongst the tightly-packed warships. The expanding pink-and-purple spheres pulled ships to their dooms, smashing them together in the intense gravitational riptides. Entire battleships vanished into the glow.

Their forward lines suddenly annihilated, the remaining Chaos ships frantically tried to disengage, ramming into one another in a vain attempt to reach illusory safety. Sensing the impending rout, the enemy reinforcements turned around. In the face of overwhelming firepower, the surviving daemonships quietly retreated, leaving the 18th and 19th Fleets directly in the enemy's path. Caught in a crossfire of FLEIJA warheads and hadron beams, they were completely annihilated.

The few lucky or skilled enough to survive the two FLEIJA bombardments could not breathe easy just yet. The ominous red glows continued building up for several moments more before discharging all at once. Thousands upon thousands of anti-capital ship hadron beams merged into a solid wall of destruction. Ships caught in the center simply ceased to exist, and even those at the edges lost big chunks of hull. The sheer amount of energy flying across the battlefield blinded Imperial sensors as far away as Terra.

The Imperial and Eldar fleets lost no time in exploiting the opening. Their faster warships mercilessly hounded the panicked Chaos forces while the capital ships launched salvo after salvo of lances and torpedoes. The few able to outrun their pursuers and escape the engagement area met the waiting gun barrels of the 15th Fleet.

* * *

**Chaos Battleship _Chaos Ascendant  
_?**

"My lord," the Chaos Champion knelt before Abaddon's command throne, shivering slightly as he felt the Despoiler's eyes settle on him.

"What is it?" the Champion of Chaos Undivided hissed impatiently.

"The first attack wave failed to penetrate the Imperial defenses," the messenger bowed lower in a vain attempt to avoid his master's gaze, "They were completely annihilated."

Much to the cowering Champion's surprise, Abaddon laughed.

"I expected as much. Eteer was always a glory hound, though he lacked the ability to back up his ambitions," the Despoiler turned towards the communications station, "Signal the second wave to begin their attack. A double allotment of slaves and loot to the first one to bring me a head: preferably an enemy's, but I'll also settle for a coward's."

* * *

**?  
The Warp**

Her mind still numbed by the fact that nearly half the Primarchs could call her "mother," Kallen mutely took a step towards the battle. Euphemia, sensing the redhead reaching a crossroads, took a single step back and raised a barrier around the trio. Recovering some of her wits, Kallen took a second step towards the dueling pair, then another. Neither combatant paid her any mind. Her hands closed around a familiar hard object, and she raised the weapon to her face. Despite the situation, she failed to suppress a chuckle: it had been thousands of years since the pocketbook disguise could fool anybody, yet she still retained it.

As Kallen squeezed the trigger and extended the blade, the daemon finally took notice and turned to face her. Whatever taunt or attack he had planned became moot when Fulgrim exploited the sudden opening and blindsided his opponent. The daemon staggered, and Kallen was upon him in moments. Her punishing blows attacked the creature's very essence, and the shockwaves of impact sent lesser daemons scurrying away. Euphemia silently watched as Kallen slammed her serpentine opponent into the ground and smashed his ribcage-equivalent with a crushing elbow-drop. Though the daemon frantically redirected its powers to reinforcing its skin, Kallen's blade still tore great gashes in its being.

With catlike grace, Kallen scurried along the daemon's body and straddled its neck, sinking her blade repeatedly into its face. So focused was she on causing as much damage as possible that she failed to notice the massive tail arcing towards her. The redhead flew through the air, slamming into the barrier with a _crack_ that made even Euphemia wince in sympathy. The daemon rushed forward as Kallen staggered to her feet, still dazed by the impact. He had little time to enjoy his momentary advantage as Fulgrim recovered his senses and, throwing his sword down, rushed forward and grabbed the daemon from behind.

"Mother," Fulgrim called out "I can't hold him for very long! Please, destroy us both!"

With a wet _crack_, the daemon's elbow found Fulgrim's face. Blinking through the tears, the Primarch tightened his grip. A second elbow sunk into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Still, Fulgrim held on.

"Please!" Fulgrim urged.

Kallen tightened her grip around her knife and lowered her body. With a savage battle cry, she charged forward. A soft blue glow slowly engulfed the blade starting from the tip. Crackling energy swirled around it, its intensity growing as Kallen channeled more and more of her psychic might into it. The daemon screamed and redoubled his struggles to no avail as the blade effortlessly slipped through his defenses. With a final roar, Kallen discharged the built-up energy.

"Thank you…" Fulgrim whispered in the final fractions of a second before the psychic explosion utterly annihilated him.

* * *

**Medical Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

"I think she's waking up…"

"Get the doc in here, quick!"

With a gasp, Kallen bolted upright in her hospital bed. Her chest heaved as she greedily breathed in the _Ikaruga_'s recycled air. Her eyes darted to the half-dozen drip feeds in her arm, then to the steadily-beeping monitoring equipment clustered around her bed.

"How long was I out?" Kallen demanded from a nearby nurse.

"About a day, ma'am," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I need to get back to my men," Kallen started to stand up, "Is the Guren-Seraph operational?"

"Ma'am…" several nurses moved in to restrain her, but Kallen batted their hands aside.

"I feel fine! Anything else can wait!" the redhead angrily insisted.

"General Kozuki, you took several serious injuries—several to the head—in the last battle," a soothing voice informed her, "Your psychic signature was wildly fluctuating for nearly the past fourteen hours."

Though Kallen could have easily overpowered the other woman and walked out, she allowed the head doctor to wrestle her back into bed.

"General of the Special Forces Division or no, as long as you're a patient at this hospital, you _will_ abide by my rules! You're not taking a step out of bed, much less towards your Knightmare, unless I give you a completely clean bill of health!"

* * *

**Combat Information Center, Space Station _Ikaruga  
_Fourteen Hours Later**

Though news of Kallen regaining consciousness buoyed their spirits temporarily, the atmosphere quickly turned somber again upon detection of the next Chaos attack wave. Any notions that Abaddon had expected the first attack to seriously damage Imperial lines were dispelled as initial telemetry data began streaming in. The current enemy wave was easily triple the size of the previous one, and reinforcements still streamed in.

"17th Fleet strength severely depleted! They can't hold much longer!"

Any friendly colors on the tactical map were quickly lost in the sea of crimson. Clouds of attack craft and escorts engaged in close-range dogfights as cruisers and battleships slugged it out at extreme ranges. Any opening focused FLEIJA and hadron volleys could open promptly flowed shut again under the sheer volume of warships.

"Draw the 17th Fleet back. Start collapsing the left flank."

"New incoming signature! This one's massive!"

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought _Pendragon  
_Vicinity of Mars**

"New incoming signature! Confirmed as Craftworld Altansar!"

"Incoming message from Fleet Admiral Seghers! Authorized to prep delimited FLEIJA warheads!"

"Authorization to prep delimited FLEIJA warheads," Lamont thoroughly scanned the message on his heads-up display, "verified."

Perhaps the most devastating weapon in the Black Knights' arsenal, delimited FLEIJA warheads were deployed only as a matter of last resort. Used solely for massive indiscriminate destruction, such warheads were stripped of the highly-precise control software of their more conventional cousins. A few volleys could strip off a planet's crust, a capability that attracted a great deal of interest from the Inquisition. To guard against a breakthrough, Lelouch ordered enough delimited FLEIJA warheads aimed at Craftworld Altansar to strip an entire star system's worth of planets down to their cores.

"We have visual data from forward scouts! Patching it through now!"

Though the Black Knights had no official contact with the Eldar before, Lamont had served long enough to recognize a Craftworld. His instincts screamed at the inherent _wrongness_ of the sight before him. Kaleidoscopic colors swirled around the thing's massive hull and several anomalous jagged structures rose up from the surface. Chaos warships swarmed around it and more poured from a great rent in the ship's side.

"Additional Eldar ships incoming. They managed to evacuate some survivors, but not many."

Attentions snapped back to the battle at hand when a new swarm of Chaos warships joined the current fleet, lending the attack much-needed momentum. The Imperial lines folded distressingly quickly, and the Eldar were more concerned about escorting the transports than with beating back the enemy charge.

"Tighten your lines and focus fire! Don't let a single ship get through!"

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station _Ikaruga_**

"18th, 19th, and 20th Fleets have taken severe casualties and are requesting permissions to withdraw!"

"Start collapsing back to the third defense zone," Lelouch ordered without hesitation, "Get 15th Fleet to run harassment on the Chaos advance."

Lelouch gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched the tactical map. The fleets followed his orders to the letter, but the Chaos fleet simply numbered too many. Even with the relatively-fresh 15th Fleet launching salvo after salvo into their rear, they could focus crippling amounts of firepower on the four withdrawing fleets in front of them. Even when the Imperial and Eldar fleets rallied and hit the Chaos fleet with a surprise flanking attack, Black Knights signatures still vanished at an alarming rate.

"Fleet Admiral Jez reports that the _Sydney_ has sustained extreme damage and is no longer combat-effective. She is scuttling the ship and transferring the colors to the _Melbourne_."

"New report from the front lines: the Chaos fleet is backing off…" the communications technician trailed off, clearly confused.

"We're detecting new energy signatures at the rear of the Chaos fleet," another technician reported, "We're triangulating the exact point of origin now."

"Signatures are consistent with repeated railgun and ion blaster discharges. Judging from the volume of readings, it looks like we're dealing with a sizable fleet."

"Triangulation complete!" the first technician announced.

A pulsing triangle appeared on the tactical map, located behind and above the Chaos fleet on the system plane. A cluster of grey triangles appeared within. Then, much to everyone's surprise, a number of blue triangles appeared as well.

"FLEIJA detonations detected!"

"Receiving new IFF data! Cross-referencing with ship rosters!"

"IFF codes verified! They all correspond to ships that were part of the 'Lost Expedition.'"

Lelouch looked around confusedly as the room fell silent.

"'Lost Expedition?'" he mouthed to CC.

"Dispatched five years ago," CC mouthed back, "Disappeared without a trace in the Damocles Gulf."

* * *

**A/N:** And there we have it! As the forces of Chaos march upon Mars itself, a new ally joins the fray!


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: Homecoming

**Disclaimer:** Yeah...this _Code Geass_ thing? Not mine. Nor is this _Warhammer 40k_ thing.

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Homecoming**

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

Before the reappearance of the infamous 'Lost Expedition' had time to sink in, the tactical map updated again. Several more triangles turned blue, then reverted to grey, then blue again. The symbols flickered in color for several more seconds before finally settling on blue.

"Receiving new IFF data. Decoding now," a technician finally broke the silence.

* * *

**Black Knights Cruiser **_**Baldr  
**_**012.M51**

"Jump complete," announced one of the navigation crew, "Skimmer drive recharging."

Captain Xene Bocker didn't even move from her position at the bridge's front, staring intently at the display as if she could see through the sanity-stripping geometries of the Warp storm. Only a simple nod told the bridge crew she had heard.

"How many did we lose?" she asked finally.

"The _Midgard_ failed to make the jump ma'am. No trace of it on scanners."

"Dammit…there were nearly two thousand people aboard…what about the others?"

"Varying degrees of damage, but all remaining ships report that they are still jump-capable," a communications officer reported.

"What's our current location?" Xene turned towards the navigators' station.

"The Warp storm's playing merry havoc with our instruments, ma'am," the officer in charge reported, "We're actually deeper inside Tau territory than before the jump. If the scans are correct, we emerged in the T'au system."

Were it not unbecoming of her rank, Xene would have erupted into a swear-laden tirade that would have made even the most seasoned Raider blush. She probably would have anyway, had a sensor technician not interrupted her.

"Ma'am, we're receiving interesting readings from the seventh planet's innermost moon. It's definitely a Black Knights locator beacon, but the computer is having trouble identifying the broadcasting ship."

"Whatever it is, it's been here for a while," another technician remarked, "The computer has exhausted all currently-used encryption keys and is delving into the historical records."

Under her helmet, Xene raised an intrigued eyebrow. Silence descended upon the bridge, the suspense so thick that one couldn't cut through it with a hadron saber.

"Computer has found a match," the technician gave a low whistle, "it's the _Asaween_. Chivalry-class frigate."

"Chivalry-class?" Xene's eyebrows rose even higher as she dredged up half-forgotten history lessons, "The last one was built-"

"Almost fifteen thousand years ago, ma'am," her executive officer finished after several seconds' silence.

"We've been bounced!" a sensor technician announced as the bridge lights dimmed, "Tau ships are attempting to scan us!"

"All hands, prepare for silent running! Broadcast a localized jamming field!"

"We've got incoming! Five ships dropping out of the Warp right on top of us!"

"Dammit! All hands to battle stations! All alert squadrons are to launch immediately!"

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

"What's the status on those IFF codes?" Lelouch flagged down a technician walking past him.

"It's slow going, sir," the technician stopped and turned to face him, "The encryption keys are old, and we've yet to find a match. Some of the techs are scanning their emissions and mass profiles. If we can determine the class, we could potentially identify the ships by cross-referencing fleet rosters."

"Good," Lelouch nodded, "Carry on."

"We've got a match!" a technician suddenly announced, causing several of his neighbors to jump up in surprise, "From the emissions spectra, it's a Myrmidon-class cruiser with four Chivalry-class frigates in support!"

"Is it just me," Lelouch spoke out of the side of his mouth to CC, "Or is that technician mentally kicking himself?"

"He's mentally kicking himself," CC answered without taking her eyes off the tactical map.

"Both designs have _very_ distinctive emission signatures," Suzaku whispered as he sensed Lelouch's curiosity, "They're actually a standard case study for how _not_ to design a stealth ship."

"IFFs decoded! It's the _Achilles_ with the _Furusiyya_, _Hippeis_, _Eques_, and _Cavalier_ in support!"

* * *

**Black Knights Cruiser **_**Achilles  
**_**789.M35**

"Sir, the _Asaween_'s hit! Port side engines destroyed! She's dead in the water!" one of the communications officers frantically relayed.

"Keep up evasive maneuvers!" Captain Mabon Wegner ordered unnecessarily as an enormous bolt of Warp-lightning flashed before the _Achilles_, "Do we have any ships close enough to tether it?"

"Negative, sir! The crews have their hands full keeping their ships from colliding! Deploying boarding cables at a time like this is suicide!"

"Message from the _Asaween_: Captain Wilkerson confirmed KIA, and his executive officer is assuming command! At least a third of the crew was killed by the lightning strike, and daemons are materializing by the dozens!"

Mabon could only watch helplessly on the visual display as the stricken frigate, alight and venting atmosphere, tumbled towards one of the star system's numerous moons. Another flash of Warp-lightning temporarily blinded the external cameras, and when the display finally cleared up again, only a bright red streak across the planetoid's atmosphere remained.

"Sir, the _Asaween_ has disappeared from sensor sweeps."

"Damn…helm, get us out of here! I needed the skimmer drive online five minutes ago!"

"Sir, standard operating procedures call for the-," the executive officer began half-heartedly.

"For the destruction of any technology in danger of falling into outside hands, I know!" Mabon snapped, "However, if we don't jump _now_, four more ships will be joining the _Asaween_!"

"Skimmer drive repaired and charged, sir!" the navigator practically screamed, "Plotting a course!"

"Dammit, just _jump_! I don't care if we end up in the middle of a _star_!"

A massive Warp current slammed into the _Achilles_ and its remaining escorts as they began to jump away. Many lost consciousness from the sheer psychic shock, and the rest passed out from the crushing gravitational forces.

* * *

**Black Knights Cruiser **_**Baldr  
**_**012.M51**

"Cobra Squadron launched and requesting permission to engage!"

"Incoming IFF data! They're ours! They're ours!" a technician frantically relayed.

"Tell Cobra Squadron to cancel engagement and stand by!" Xene barked, "Open a channel!"

"They're not responding to hails, ma'am," a communications officer reported after several minutes and a dozen attempts.

"I'm not reading any lifesigns aboard," declared a sensor technician, "However, scanners confirm a Myrmidon-class cruiser with four Chivalry-class frigates in support. Cross-referencing with fleet rosters tentatively identifies them as the _Achilles_,_ Furusiyya_, _Hippeis_, _Eques_, and _Cavalier_."

"The First Expedition?" Xene failed to keep the surprise out of her voice, "I want boarding teams prepped immediately! Tell our resident mage to meet them on the hangar deck. This sort of thing should be right up his alley."

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

From the corner of his eye, Lelouch could see historical records and ship schematics scroll past a nearby bank of monitors at high speed. From what he could skim, tragedy defined the Black Knights' history with the Tau. Since M35, five expeditions had been dispatched to the Damocles Gulf, and not one returned. The first fleet was tasked with exploring the region, and all subsequent task groups were sent to recover or destroy their predecessors' remains.

The bulk of the Emperor's attentions remained glued to the tactical map. The last of the grey triangles blinked out of existence, replaced by Tau orange. Skimming what information he could from surrounding monitors and the minds of surrounding technicians, he closed his eyes and quickly assembled a picture of the tactical situation. He opened them again seconds later, and not a moment too soon. The mass of red triangles had stopped retreating.

"Sir, the Chaos fleet has rallied!" a nearby technician reported, "They're doubling back for another attack!"

"Wheel the 19th and 20th Fleets around! Volley fire FLEIJAs from extreme range, then close in with hadron beams! Have them focus on breaking through the enemy center!"

Mere minutes later, a small but noticeable portion of the Chaos fleet's forward units vanished from the tactical map. More triangles blinked out of existence as the Black Knights charged the enemy lines. The blob of red cracked then parted as the 19th and 20th Fleets drove a wedge between their ranks.

"Tactical jump the 17th and 18th Fleets onto the enemy's left flank! With some luck, we can roll up their entire line from there!"

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought **_**Pendragon  
**_**Vicinity of Mars**

Whether by side effect of the numerous Warp phenomena raging in the vicinity or deliberate Chaos sorcery, the Black Knights were unable to make precise tactical jumps into the midst of the Chaos fleet. The 17th and 18th Fleets emerged significantly short of their intended destination but well within range of the enemy's guns. As lances and torpedoes pelted them, the scattered ships hurriedly fell back into formation and charged.

"Forward hadron fields down to seventy-five percent density! Ordnance is already starting to leak through!"

"Bring some of the emitters from Array Two online to compensate!" Lamont reflexively ordered.

Even its advanced inertial dampeners could not keep the _Pendragon_ from rocking as a lance struck the dreadnought head-on. A bright blue glow filled the forward visual display as the newly-reinforced hadron fields struggled to dissipate the massive attack.

"Forward Array Two emitters burned out! Field density down to sixty-three percent!"

"This is Fleet Admiral Seghers to all 17th Fleet units: the enemy fleet is now one hundred and fifty kilometers off our bow! Let 'em have it!"

In a very short amount of time, the Chaos sensor technicians became _very_ adept at recognizing an incoming FLEIJA volley's sensor signature. At the very least, Lamont assumed as much when the enemy's front ranks began breaking away. Anticipating such a scenario, Fleet Admiral Seghers had ordered firing solutions targeted deep into the enemy fleet. While collisions claimed many of the panicked forward units, FLEIJA warheads detonated amongst the unprepared rear echelon units. Before they had time to recover and regroup, a solid wave of crimson death slammed into them, disintegrating dozens of warships and crippling hundreds more.

"The enemy is disoriented and confused! Don't let up!"

The spearhead of the 17th Fleet, its diamond-hard tip formed by the surviving dreadnoughts, thrust deep into the Chaos flank. Fleet Admiral Seghers' flagship, the _London_, lead from the front, engaging several ships at a time and winning decisively each time. Many Chaos formations broke and ran outright upon sight of a dreadnought phalanx bearing down on them. When the remaining ships of the 17th Fleet emerged from behind the spear-tip and spread out, the battle quickly became a one-sided slaughter. Upon the 18th Fleet joining the melee, the slaughter became an all-out rout.

* * *

**Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Cobra Leader  
Vicinity of Mars**

The formation of Doomfires, already locked on their attack run, stood no chance when the pilots of Cobra Squadron swooped down on them. Hadron bolts perforated the Doomfires, punching through their thick armor with frightening ease and reducing the entire squadron to debris. Some distance away, Cobra Leader spotted attack craft from the _Achilles_ dogfighting with their Chaos counterparts. Despite their age, the Rapier-class attack craft inflicted a frightening toll on their opponents.

"Chaos ships coming from behind! They're going straight for the Tau!"

"Cobra Squadron, form up! Their fleet'll get ripped apart in a dogfight!"

Cobra Leader gunned the accelerator as the rest of his squadron fell in behind him. Two more Excalibur squadrons and a Rapier squadron joined them. Unaccustomed to fighting Imperial-designed warships, the Tau's famous discipline wavered and their normally-focused volleys came out wild. Many shots outright missed or bounced off the enemy's thickly-armored prows. In the short time it took the Black Knights to close the distance, the Tau fleet was ready to break and run.

Cobra Leader winced as he witnessed a Lunar-class cruiser plowed straight into a Tau battleship and cleaved it in two. Several cruisers swooped in for an attack run, their powerful armaments punching through weakened void shields with ease. Unfortunately, while the Kor'vatta warships were more than capable of dishing out punishment, their thin armor meant they were ill-suited to taking it. A single close-range volley outright destroyed one of the cruisers and sent another spinning away.

"Their void shields are down! Cobra Squadron, engage!"

The attack craft of Cobra Squadron inverted and bore down on the now-vulnerable cruiser. A squadron of Swiftdeaths rose up to meet them but was intercepted by a squadron of Tau bombers and their fighter escorts. Flak burst all around the closing Excaliburs, the shrapnel peppering their hadron fields and several fragments even glancing off their armor. The defensive fire ended up shooting down far more Chaos craft than anything else.

Cobra Leader pulled his attack craft into a crushing climb, his belly actually scraping the cruiser's hull. The flak stopped, the gun barrels unable to depress far enough. The Excaliburs wove between the Lunar-class cruiser's numerous hull protrusions, dodging shoulder-fired missiles and the few Chaos fighters insane enough to follow them. Many were unable to level out of their dive fast enough and smashed into the cruiser's hull, and the others proved unable to keep pace with the Black Knights pilots and crashed into protrusions.

"Cobra squadron, weapons free!"

Huge chunks of hull disappeared under a hail of hadron bolts, and the cruiser's bridge tower was gutted by a FLEIJA warhead. Several missiles passed through the rents opened up by the Tau attack and detonated inside, inflicting grievous injuries. Several Cobra Squadron pilots turned around at the end of their attack run, sending their remaining FLEIJAs into the Lunar-class cruiser's engines. Crippled, the Chaos cruiser tumbled into the waiting gun barrels of the Tau fleet.

The Cobra Squadron pilots, with vengeful Chaos fighters on their tail, screamed through the Tau formation. Many of the enemy, unable to keep pace with the nimble Excaliburs, collided with the wreckage of destroyed warships. The few survivors were downed by a hail of railgun slugs and ion blaster bolts as Battlesuits clambered onto their motherships' hulls in a desperate attempt to provide close-in defense. As the Black Knights craft passed overhead, several of the powered armors tapped their heads with their missile pods in a crude imitation of a salute.

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

"19th and 20th Fleets are getting swarmed!"

The Black Knights' close-range shock attack caught the enemy off-guard, disorienting them long enough to allow Imperial and Eldar units to close in. Spearheaded by their mighty Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts, the 19th and 20th Fleets plunged deep into the enemy center, destroying the vast slab-sided warships by the dozen. Like some unimaginably-vast creature, the Chaos lines flowed shut around the breach and attacked the Black Knights from all sides.

According to the tactical map, the trapped fleets had pooled their remaining ships and fallen into an outward-facing ring. Vast swaths of the surrounding enemy force were annihilated by volleys of FLEIJA warheads and hadron beams from the dreadnoughts. Trundholm-class cruisers darted forward, engaging the survivors in brutal close-range fire exchanges while Avalon-class destroyers and Camelot-class frigates tied up enemy reinforcements with high-speed hit-and-run attacks.

"The enemy core is rallying! 17th and 18th Fleets' advance stopped!"

Picking out the blue triangles became near-impossible as the Chaos fleet descended upon the besieged Black Knights units. Several tendrils reached towards the Tau, ripping apart their fragile warships in close-range combat.

"What's the status on the 15th Fleet?"

"Engaged by enemy daemonships! They cannot disengage!"

Lelouch stared at the tactical map for several seconds longer, watching several more blue triangles disappear under the flood of red. Though he hated to admit it, he could only acknowledge defeat. Abaddon the Despoiler had completely outmaneuvered him.

"We've lost contact with the _London_!"

"Sound," Lelouch's voice faltered for a moment, "Sound the retreat. Any more of this, and we'll just be needlessly throwing our mens' lives away. Have the survivors fall back to second defense zone."

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought **_**Beijing  
**_**Vicinity of Mars**

"Sir, all hadron batteries charged and ready."

Captain Ivo Affini nodded, and then turned back towards the countdown hovering over the tactical map. Survivors from the battle around Altansar had already begun arriving in ones and twos, with the Chaos fleet hot on their tail. The crew held their breaths with the news of every jump signature, only to release it again when IFF data confirmed friendly warships.

"Signal the fleet," Fleet Admiral Cassian Travers suddenly announced, causing several of the _Beijing_'s bridge crew, Ivo among them, to jump in surprise, "Tell them to prep delimited FLEIJA warheads."

A number of jump signatures, close enough to the _Beijing_ that visual scans picked up several pinpricks of light, sent the dreadnought and its escorts into high alert. Several tense seconds passed before IFF data identified them as the heavily-damaged _London_ and its escorts. The flurry of activity immediately restarted, communications technicians scrambling to disseminate the updated orders, as the flagship of the 17th Fleet limped towards the relative safety of friendly lines.

"Incoming!"

"We've got friendlies as well! Watch your fire!"

Several Black Knights and Tau warships dropped out of the Warp and sped towards the allied fleet. Lances and torpedoes destroyed several as a vast swath of space ripped open, exposing the maddening colors and impossible geometries of the Warp. Thousands of Chaos warships screamed through, clustered around the massive bulk of Craftworld Altansar.

"Tell the fleet to hold their fire! Give our friendlies some time to reach us!"

It spoke bounds for the defenders' discipline that not a single ship opened fire even as a cloud of Chaos warships bore down on them. One by one, the remaining allied survivors slipped past Black Knights lines and into the thicket of shipyards surrounding Mars. By the time the last of them reached safety, the _Beijing_'s bridge crew could make out hull details on some of the larger enemy warships.

"Now! Open fire!"

Chaos forces, perhaps hoping to use Mars' vast manufactoria to fuel their war effort, held their fire as they rushed the world's defenses. The Black Knights, fighting with their backs to the red planet, had no such restriction. The enemy's forward units disappeared under a wave of crimson and violet, halting the charge in its tracks. Many of the survivors outright broke and ran and were slaughtered by friend and foe alike. The more cool-headed of the Chaos captains ordered their ships to fall back and shield Altansar from another volley.

The Black Knights fleets hurriedly reloaded their FLEIJA tubes and recharged their hadron beam cannons, but dared not leave their positions around Mars. The Chaos warships held position around Craftworld Altansar, staying just outside the defenders' effective range. The battle for Mars had, at the moment, become a standoff.

* * *

**Hangar Bay, Space Station** _**Ikaruga  
**_**One Hour Later**

Flanked by her bodyguards, Nunnally Lamperouge stood several meters away from the Tau shuttle, hands folded primly in front of her. The makeshift honor guard lining the path consisted of a dozen combat information center personnel who had spent the past hour hurriedly reviewing the manual of arms. The lacked the nanosecond precision of units more accustomed to such duties, but their performance appeared to sufficiently impress the Tau delegation.

Surrounded by a quartet of Fire Warriors, the Ethereal slowly descended the ramp. Frail and bent over with age, his staff made a loud _clang_ with each step. As she waited, Nunnally hurriedly reviewed the half-digested report on the Tau from the _Baldr_'s captain. She would have preferred more time to prepare, especially when it came to first contact with such a hierarchal species, but hypotheticals did her little good. Her facial expression betrayed none of her concerns, and she stood statue-still as her counterpart laboriously crossed the last few meters and stopped at arms' reach.

"Governor Lamperouge," the Ethereal bowed as deeply as he could while clutching his staff, "I am Aun'O T'au Ko'vash Tau'va. It is an honor to meet you at last."

"The honor is mine, Aun'O," Nunnally returned the bow.

"Please, call me O'Ko'vash," the Ethereal insisted.

"Then I shall insist you call me Nunnally," the governor of the Black Knights replied as they turned to leave the hangar bay.

* * *

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group as they navigated the _Ikaruga_'s labyrinthine corridors. The Knightmares warily eyed the Fire Warriors and especially their vicious-looking ion rifles. Unbeknownst to the Black Knights, their Tau counterparts viewed them with even greater caution, wondering what kind of military could equip so many of their soldiers with Battlesuits.

"Nunnally, my people owe yours a great debt, one that we could never fully repay," O'Ko'vash abruptly announced, shattering the tension.

The chestnut-haired Psyker turned towards the Ethereal, clearly intrigued.

"As our ancestors spread across T'au, the first sept, they also looked to bring the Tau'va to the distant stars. They knew of the medium your people call the 'Warp,' but without psychic abilities, they were unable to travel through it. The Tau'va would have ended then had they not discovered a crashed starship upon the seventh planet's innermost moon. Our technology made us strong, but it was your technology—your skimmer drive—that allowed us to flourish."

Nunnally mutely nodded, knowing full well that Intelligence would have a field day.

"Many thousands of Tau'cyr later, our empire stood at the brink of collapse. For much of our history, we remained ignorant of the Warp's perils until the one you call 'Abaddon the Despoiler' began his march. His armies burned a dozen worlds, and a dozen more were swallowed by the growing madness. Despite the harsh lessons learned, we were unprepared when the storms closed around T'au itself. Our very technology turned against us, and we would have perished had your people not intervened."

The double doors silently slid shut behind the group as they entered the conference room. A pair of Fire Warriors and Knightmares broke off from the main group to flank their respective leaders as the others lined the perimeter. Aided by one of his bodyguards, the Ethereal gingerly lowered his frail form into the seat while narrating the final days of T'au. He spoke of daemonic legions devouring entire settlements, of entire continents scorched clean of life by Warp fire, of trapped Battlesuit pilots begging for death as their machines turned on their own forces. Nunnally barely suppressed the rising nausea.

"It was with your aid that we could stem the tide of horrors. Your ships shielded our own as they carried the last of our people away from T'au. Just as your people stood by us in our hour of need, so shall we in yours. The Ethereal Caste has declared a debt of honor, an empire for an empire. For the Greater Good, we add our strength to yours until your home is secure from the Warp's madness or the last Tau has fallen."

As O'Ko'vash concluded his tale, Nunnally's communicator quietly beeped. She took the call as surreptitiously as she could. If the Ethereal noticed, he was too polite to point it out.

"Latest reports from Mars," the voice on the other end relayed, "The Chaos fleet began their attack following the arrival of reinforcements via Altansar's Primary Webway Nexus. They've already broken through friendly lines and begun landings. General Kururugi has left for the planet surface."

Nunnally could only hope that Lelouch had the situation under control.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Staging Area  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Aided by the massive excavators of the Adeptus Mechanicus, hundreds of kilometers of trenches were dug in record time. Servitors erected thousands of rockcrete gun emplacements and millions of plasteel tank traps. Hydra anti-aircraft batteries scanned the skies as thousands of tanks and artillery pieces silently waited within their barbettes. Countless automatic weapons lined the fortifications, their overlapping lanes of fire ensuring any enemy would pay a dear price for every meter gained.

The two hundred thousand militiamen of the 15th Militia Group made up only a small part of the forces manning the line, though they bought a disproportionately-large amount of firepower for their numbers. Approximately four million of the nearly one hundred million Imperial Guardsmen assigned to defend the Tharsis plateau occupied the trenches alongside the Black Knights. An additional five hundred thousand Skitarii and two hundred Astartes warriors had arrived the previous night, no doubt after some arm-twisting by the Black Knights leadership.

The nearly five million souls below all turned their eyes skywards as hundreds of thousands of bright streaks raced through the atmosphere. Fighters and attack craft rocketed upwards to intercept them, and the roaring of Hydra batteries filled the air.

The invasion of Mars had begun.

* * *

**A/N:** Well...hope this was worth the wait. Also hope I didn't maul Tau naming conventions too badly... And the Mars arc officially begins! Epic battles, Spinzaku action, and hopefully some surprises in the mix! Tune in next time!


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six: Metal Monsters I

**A/N: **To all my readers, I'm sorry for making you all wait this long! I hoped to get this chapter out nearly a month ago, but exams really kicked my ass this time around...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer 40k_.

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Metal Monsters, Part I**

**Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Hammerhead Leader  
Skies Above Tharsis Region, Mars**

"Loosen formation! Let them pass between us!"

The Excalibur-class attack craft abruptly stopped and translated straight horizontally. The Chaos fighters, lacking the physics-defying gravitric drives their counterparts were thoroughly exploiting, hurriedly banked around to intercept. Screaming through the atmosphere at supersonic speeds, they overshot the formation by a huge margin before the first of them could turn around. Having disengaged afterburners to tighten their turn radii, many Swiftdeaths were shredded by anti-aircraft fire from below.

"Hammerhead Squadron, weapons free!"

Hammerhead Leader felt his teeth chattering as he ignited his gravitric drives, slamming his craft into a crushing acceleration and descending upon the now-vulnerable drop pods. A lengthy stream of hadron bolts shredded one pod and its passengers and sheared the stabilization fins off of another, sending it spiraling to its doom below. Angry black puffs of smoke filled the skies as ground-based Hydra flak batteries targeted the incoming Chaos forces. The Excaliburs deftly wove between the friendly fire, downing a dozen drop pods with each attack run.

"Here come additional escorts!"

"Hammerhead Squadron, scatter!"

Red streaks crisscrossed the skies as dozens of Swiftdeaths dove down to meet the Black Knights pilots and clear the way for the second wave of drop pods. The surviving Chaos fighters rose up to rejoin the fray, firing a massive volley of armor-piercing missiles as their counterparts above did the same. The attack craft of Hammerhead Squadron scattered into a dozen different directions as the anti-aircraft batteries below ceased firing in fears of hitting friendlies.

"There's too many of them!"

"This is Hammerhead Four, I'm hit! I can barely keep my nose up!"

"This is Hammerhead Seven, I've got a dozen bandits on my six!"

Swarmed by Chaos fighters and unable to disengage, Hammerhead Squadron could only watch helplessly as the second wave of pods drew closer and closer. Hammerhead Four's lifesigns went dark as the first Dreadclaws screamed past the dogfight, buffeting the dueling attack craft with their sonic booms.

"We've got bogies coming in from seven o'clock, angels three! At least a hundred of 'em!"

A dozen alarms filled Hammerhead Leader's heads-up display as his hadron fields failed. His head swung in every direction in a desperate attempt to track the half-dozen Swiftdeaths attacking him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hammerhead Seven's lifesign disappear. An armor-piercing missile slammed into his craft, sending alarm klaxons into a frenzy as the Excalibur's left wing ripped away. As he struggled to compensate, Hammerhead leader was nearly deafened by his sensor display's shrill beeping as it announced another wave of Swiftdeaths descending to join the fray.

"Missiles incoming!"

"There's too many of them! Can't evade!"

As he finally bought his stricken craft under control, Hammerhead leader could only watch helplessly as his squadron's lifesigns blinked out one by one. He lost whatever sense of hearing he was able to retain when proximity sensors announced another massive salvo of missiles incoming. His jaw dropped when the wall of approaching inevitable doom, along with dozens of Swiftdeaths, evaporated under a hail of lascannon bolts and autocannon rounds.

"A Flight, give these boys some cover! B Flight, on me! We will intercept and destroy the enemy reinforcements! C Flight, target those drop pods! Lux Imperatoris Wing, engage! Engage! Engage!"

A Thunderbolt fighter inverted itself and screamed past Hammerhead Leader with scarcely a meter to spare. The Imperial pilot had just enough time to notice and return the Black Knight's salute.

* * *

**Combat Information Center  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

Hands folded neatly behind his back, Lelouch stared at the tactical map for a few moments longer. The thicket of orbital construction facilities around Mars played merry havoc with sensor sweeps even during the best of times, a property that the amethyst-eyed immortal suspect was at least partially intentional on the Mechanicum's part. The countless warships slugging it out amongst the tangle of structures further complicated matters. The fact that the sensor technicians were able to extract _any_ useful data _at all_ from the jumble of readings spoke volumes of their skill, and Lelouch made a mental note to put their names in for commendations later.

Though the Chaos assault fleet took great pains to avoid damage the orbiting manufactoria on the approach, sacrificing dozens of warships to further close the distance, their fire discipline quickly fell apart when the battle was joined. Entire salvos of lances and torpedoes missed their targets and slammed into the orbitals, vaporizing thousands of years' worth of ancient and irreplaceable technologies. Lelouch winced as one of the construction yards disintegrated, its debris tumbling into the atmosphere and burning up. Imperial forces, while marginally more careful with their firepower, proved perfectly willing to smash through a shipyard or two with their weapons or even their armored prows in order to open up fire lanes.

With two fresh battle fleets bolstering the five battered ones, the defenders massacred the first several waves of enemies. Though a steady stream of ships emerged from the corrupted interior of Craftworld Altansar, each new wave of Chaos warships joining the fray had already endured devastating hit-and-run attacks courtesy of the Eldar and Black Knights fleets. Their crews already on the edge and having lost much of their fighting strength to ambushes, the reinforcements were easy pickings for the defenders. However, sheer weight of numbers won out in the end: the repeated sledgehammer blows of the Chaos assault eventually cracked the allied lines. Enemy warships flooded each minute flaw in the defenses, forcing their way through into lower orbit.

Lelouch's eyes flickered to the display of Mars' surface, his superhuman intellect rapidly cataloging each of the millions of triangles. The battle in space had become a contest of brute firepower, but the situation on the ground still called for precision. The wide, flag topology of the Tharsis region that had made it an ideal location for the Mechancium to construct its massive forges now made it an ideal beachhead for Abaddon's forces. He could already see clusters of red pressing against walls of multicolored triangles as enemy forces mounted break-outs.

"Sergeant Aurallo," Lelouch flagged down the closest technician, skimming his name and rank from the surface of his mind, "Is the Skinkirou ready for deployment?"

"Yes sir," the Sergeant turned to face him after a moment's delay, "The technicians are ready for you in Bay G-27."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Carry on."

* * *

**Chaos Landing Zone  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Crazed with bloodlust and combat drugs, the Khornate cultists writhed in their harnesses, pulling futilely at the restraints. With a great ripping sound, one of the blood-frenzied men managed to break free. The landing sent him flying and dashed his skull against a side panel. The harnesses released moments later, and the wave of cultists crashed against the rear wall, trampling over one another to be the first one out. The leader of the warband thrust his rusted chainsword into the air, revving it up for dramatic effect, as the light over the ramp blinked from red to green.

"_Blood for the Blood God!"_ he roared.

"_Skulls for the Skull Throne!"_ came the reply.

Imperial Guard automatic weapons dug in beyond the ridge opened up, many of the rounds pinging uselessly against the dropship's armor. Several of the lighter members of the warband clambered up the still-lowering ramp and vaulted over the edge. A few cut-off screams and chunks of flesh reached the inside as they were shredded by the defensive fire. Raising their assorted melee weapons in the air and shouting war-cries, the rest of the warband followed seconds later when the ramp contacted the red Martian soil. Incoming stubber rounds vaporized half of the cultists before their feet even touched the ground.

A nearby dropship exploded as Leman Russ tanks opened fire, reducing nearby cultists to strips of bloody flesh. A massive plasma bolt finished off the crippled vessel, setting it ablaze. Several burning cultists ran out, screaming and beating futilely at the flames for several seconds before falling over. Basilisk artillery pounded the landing zone from afar, reducing entire battalions into a shower of bloody chunks and dropships into piles of twisted scrap.

* * *

Cheap, rugged, and able to take and dish out immense pain, the Leman Russ had served as the backbone of Imperial Guard armored forces for millennia. Unfortunately, crew comfort was obviously the last thing on the designers' minds. The crew of Leman Russ 34, of the Arcadian 34th Armored Regiment, operated in marginally more comfort than their peers. Within days of arriving on Mars, sand jammed the secondary weapons' rotation mechanisms. Lacking both the necessary time and resources, the Enginseers opted to simply remove the heavy bolters. The two sponson gunners who would have normally operated the weapons were assigned to other vehicles, and the remaining crew gained some elbow room.

"Leman Russ! Range three hundred-forty six meters! Altitude minus eight degrees, azimuth three degrees!" the commander called out, shouting to be heard even over vox.

The high-pitched whining of hydraulics echoed throughout the crew compartment as the main gun adjusted its aim. The gunner peered intently through his rangefinder, carefully lining the pippers up with the enemy armor silhouetted against the burning dropships below.

"Confirm," the gunner shouted into the vox after several seconds, "Leman Russ, three hundred forty-six, minus eight, three."

"Load AT!"

The loader, stockier than his companions but still fairly lanky by normal standards, easily lifted the twenty-kilogram shell from its rack and rammed it home.

"Up!" He called out as he raised and locked the breech.

"Fire!"

Despite possessing the best hearing protection Arcadia could afford to equip its troops with, the crew was temporarily deafened by the roar. The commander recovered first, reaching his periscope in time to observe the shell impact.

"Negative impact! Adjust azimuth plus zero-point-three!"

Once again, a high-pitched whine assaulted the crew's ears. The gunner's eyes were glued to the rangefinder and the loader's hands hovered over the ammunition hopper.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

"Ma'am, General Kururugi has arrived in orbit. However, the fighting in space and in the air is too heavy for a shuttle to safely navigate."

From the corner of her eye, Colonel General Majka saw a cluster of blue triangles on the tactical map engulfed and disappear within a swarm of red. They blinked out of existence within seconds.

"He is currently coordinating the fleet from the _Jakarta_, but plans to land within the next forty-eight hours," the communications technician concluded.

"Has he issued any new orders to the ground forces?"

"Negative, ma'am. He has instructed all officers to continue deploying their forces at their own discretions."

"Any news on our guest?"

"Yes, ma'am," another technician declared, "Medical bay reports he regained consciousness approximately half an hour ago. A guard detail has already quarantined the area."

"Ma'am, we've received an update from the guard detail. He is currently cooperative and has willingly surrendered himself to their custody. He requests to speak with you."

"Patch him through," Lilia ordered, intrigued by the turn of events.

* * *

**Hangar Bay G-27  
Space Station **_**Ikaruga**_

Though its sleek lines would not look out of place on a more modern Knightmare, the Shinkirou's design clearly showed its advanced age. The process of preparing the ancient war machine for deployment had drawn in dozens of technicians and locked down an entire docking berth. The millennia spent in storage at the Valles Marineris facility had taken their toll, and the violent retrieval had not helped matters. Many of the Shinkirou's parts, almost all of which had not seen production since the exodus, needed replacement. The repair crews had plundered museum exhibits and archives—some of them dating back to the Age of Technology—for the necessary schematics and parts.

Lelouch walked in on a scene of barely-contained chaos as technicians performed last-minute diagnostics on clearly-ancient equipment. A dozen technical documents, some old enough to exist on physical paper, lay scattered around the chamber. Though the work never slowed, the immortal could feel all eyes in the room briefly gravitate towards him. The Emperor of Mankind casually strode towards the storage pod in the center, peering inside to find the Shinkirou's inner skeleton.

Modern Knightmares practically equipped themselves, featuring an intricate arrangement of metal plates that slid aside to admit the operator and then sealed shut to form a smooth armored surface. Though many now took the technology for granted, it proved impractical for mass production until the opening years of the Fourteenth Black Crusade. It had proved impractical in _any_ incarnation, even in Kallen and Suzaku's custom-crafted Knightmares, until after the Great Scouring. The Shinkirou required a significantly more labor-intensive process.

The technicians did not so much as bat an eyebrow as Lelouch lifted the metal skeleton, by itself nearly metric ton, out of the pod and began disassembling it. The vest and pelvis frame went on first, held together by a dozen pins and straps. With an audible _hiss_, the thigh and leg components slid on and synchronized their servos. The arm and forearm locked in place with a sharp _click_, and a technician helped Lelouch fit the gloves.

"If you'll just lift your arms up," one of the technicians muttered in Lelouch's general direction as the others began laying out the Shinkirou's armor components.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Even with the fairly limited capabilities of her Knightmare heads-up display, Colonel General Lilia Majka could tell their guest was _large_. Knelt in a silent meditative pose, the light-colored tunic he wore sharply contrasted with his dark skin. The security teams had confiscated his armor, but he easily stood taller than an Archangel Knightmare even without it. Every inch of his body rippled with muscle, and Lilia had the distinct feeling that he could have easily broken through the dozen militiamen guarding him without much trouble.

"Greetings," Colonel General Majka began after a moment of clearing her throat, "I am Colonel General Lilia Majka, leader of the Black Knights 15th Militia Group."

"Greetings, Colonel General Majka," the figure replied in a deep rumbling voice without opening his eyes or moving from his spot, "I am Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes."

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Staging Area  
Twelve Hours Later**

Though grossly outnumbered, the fleets defending Mars managed to funnel the Chaos landing forces into a select few, heavily-fortified beachheads. Heavy artillery bombardments and dug-in automatic weapons slaughtered the first waves before they could capture much ground, but the dropships continued streaming down from orbit. Armed with little more than their zeal and the promise of eternal rewards, cultist threw themselves at the Imperial guns in massive waves to pave the way for their tanks.

"Here they come again! Stand your ground, men!"

With a grunt, Private Sean Macangus removed his bayonet from the cultist's still cooling body and dragged his exhausted body back to the edge of the trench. The chattering of heavy bolters and stubbers filled the air as the Guardsmen hurriedly snapped fresh charge packs into their lasguns. Explosions deafened them as artillery rained shells upon the advancing horde and allied armor traded fire with the enemy.

Feeling the ground shift, Sean froze as one of the Black Knights militiamen took the spot on the line next to him. Even as the two meter titan offered a reassuring nod, the Guardsman inched away. Sean had heard them refer to their armored suits as "Nightmares," and a more apt name he could not conceive. When the enemy reached the trenches and slaughtered the forward regiments, the power armored soldiers waded through the sea of gunfire and bayonets without fear, vaporizing entire squads of cultists with their weapons.

"We've got tanks cresting the ridge! Mortars, keep them suppressed while artillery draws a bead on them! Air support is coming around for another pass!"

His years of combat experience reasserting themselves, Sean shouldered his lasgun and simply held down the trigger as he pointed it in the enemy's general direction. The oncoming horde was so closely packed together that there was little need to aim. The hail of lasbolts shredded the forward ranks, but combat drugs kept the cultists fighting far beyond the point of reason. Sean watched as a lasbolt severed a cultist's arm, only for the mutilated and tattooed man to pick up his severed limb and wield it as a makeshift club. Another continued charging despite a gaping hole in her stomach. Stubber rounds vaporized yet another's legs below the knees, but he continued clawing forward along the ground when a sane man would have gone into shock.

A rapid-fire ripping sound assaulted Sean's ears as the Black Knights militiaman next to him opened fire. Other Knightmares joined in, driving the approaching swam back several meters with a wave of crimson. Low _whump_ sounds echoed throughout the trenches as mortar teams gained their bearings and began lobbing high-explosive death at the enemy. A dozen cultists were reduced to a shower of gore and orphaned limbs wherever one of the rounds landed. Sean ducked down as Chimaeras roared over the trench, grinding the enemy to paste beneath their massive treads.

"_Blood for the Blood God!"_

Though they were mowed down by the thousands, the press of bodies kept Abaddon's forces moving forward. Chaos cultists clambered atop one of the armored transports, dragging the gunner out of his seat and beating the unfortunate Guardsman to death with improvised melee weapons. Another Chimaera went up in flames as a melta bomb-laden heretic made a suicide run, hurling himself under the vehicle's tracks and detonating his payload. Twisted scrap metal rained from the skies as a heretic Leman Russ tank's shells found their target.

"Where's that artillery?" one of Sean's neighbors screamed into his vox bead just before a stray autogun round punched through his helmet and emerged out the back.

Sean became acutely aware that his charge pack was depleted when the reassuring ozone-cracks of his lasgun suddenly ceased. With a practiced motion, he snapped the spent pack out of its well and dropped it onto the trench floor before reaching for his combat webbing. His stomach sank when his fingers closed around empty air. As the screaming horde of cultists drew closer, Sean propped his weapon against the trench wall and dropped to his knees, rifling through his dead comrades' gear in search of a fresh charge pack.

"Here," the Guardsman squawked in surprise as a massive pair of hands pulled him to his feet and shoved something into his hands, "Make it count!"

Sean looked up in time to see a Knightmare's retreating back then looked down in disbelief at the alien weapon in his hands. The Black Knights militiamen wielded them as sidearms, but the hadron pistol was easily as large as lascarbine in his hands. Gripping the weapon in both hands and taking careful aim, Sean returned to his spot on the line and began taking potshots into the cultist swarm.

* * *

"Counterbattery fire's doing a number on the Imperial artillery! They're trying to relocate, but there's not going to be any of them left if we don't knock out the enemy batteries!"

"Where's that air support? Enemy tanks are ripping us apart!"

"Heavy dogfighting all over the skies! Those Excaliburs aren't coming!"

"Dammit! Third Platoon, on me! We're going tank hunting!"

Sergeant Hyram Kava silently rallied the remaining members of his squad before taking to the skies himself. The micro-gravitric impellers kicked in so smoothly that he could barely tell where his jump ended and the upward thrust began. The cultists below turned their guns skywards in a vain attempt to halt the makeshift airstrike, but the incoming fire proved inaccurate and the few hits simply glanced off the Knightmares' armor. Hyram's heads-up display flickered for a split second as an autogun round slammed into his armor's left eyepiece, mushrooming and harmlessly falling to the ground below. The Imperial Guardsmen turned their guns to the enemy center, and the incoming fire slackened as more Knightmares rose up to join the Third Platoon.

"First Squad, with me! Sergeant Kava, hit their left!"

"Roger," Hyram switched channels with a thought, "Squad, hadron cannons!"

A quick mental impulse sent Hyram's own hadron cannons sliding forward on their tracks. As he surged forward with the eight remaining members of his squad close behind, the cannons' smooth casings slid apart, revealing triggers and grips. A sizable unit of cultists, former Imperial Guard from the looks for their uniforms, managed to rally and formed a bayonet wall in the low flying Knightmares' paths. Their newfround resolve grew weaker as the Black Knights drew closer and broke entirely when Hyram casually extended his hadron blade and decapitated their leader without slowing down. Eight more Knightmares crashed through the formation, slicing the remaining combatants to ribbons with their hadron blades or simply smashing every bone in their bodies with their massive momentum.

"Column of Leman Russ ahead! Van Der Hout, take out the lead tank! Leifsson, rear tank! Rest of you, give them some cover fire!"

* * *

Corporal Henrik Leifsson broke off from the main formation at high speed, buzzing his target and taunting its sponson gunners as he wove in and out of their firing arc. The infantry units surrounding the armored firing line sprayed lasbolts in a vain attempt to shoot him down. Many went wide, hitting the air or other cultists, and the few that found their mark splashed off Henrik's hadron fields. Hadron bolts shredded many of them, and a few pumps of the underslung scatter cannon sent the rest scrambling for cover.

As his squadmates suppressed the remaining infantry, Henrik set down behind his assigned target, deliberately scraping his feet against the ground to kick up a dust cloud. Aiming with the help of his infrareds, he loosed a devastating one-two punch from his hadron cannons. The first shot blew off a tread, while the second punched straight through the rear armor and emerged on the other side. The militiaman casually strode up to the killed tank and stuck the barrel of his hadron assault rifle through the gaping wound. A panicked scream was cut off with a pump of the scatter cannon.

"This is Leifsson, target down!"

"This is Van Der Hout, target down!"

Henrik barely suppressed a flinch as one of his squadmates dropped onto a neighboring Leman Russ, presumably from a great height, and crumpled the armor over the engine compartment with a loud _crunch_. With a roar, the militiaman drove a hadron saber deep into the tank's innards and ensured it would not move again. Another Knightmare clambered atop the crippled armored vehicle, carving through the commander's hatch with some difficulty and killed the crew with a few bursts of a hadron assault rifle.

Another Leman Russ was reduced to scrap when no less than three Knightmares unleashed a flurry of hadron cannon blasts onto it. Twisted and scorched metal and charred body parts rained down on the squad as a lucky shot detonated another tank's ammunition rack.

* * *

As the enemy armored vehicles went up in flames one by one, a great cheer tore through the trenches. The cacophony only grew louder as allied aircraft roared overhead, knocking many off their feet with the sonic booms. Far-off explosions reached their ears moments later, and the artillery that had plagued them for so long slackened then ceased entirely.

"_For the Emperor!"_

The revving of chainswords drowned out the cheering and praises to the Emperor as the Astartes contingent climbed over the lip of the trench and charged into the no man's land. The few cultists brave or foolish enough to continue pressing their failed attack broke and run at the sight, and the Emperor's angels of death showed no mercy. With righteous ferocity, they smashed through the horde with bolter and chainsword.

The cheering died and many a pair of eyes widened in horror as a stray lasbolt struck a standard bearer in the throat. Even as the youth died an agonizing and gurgling death, he held the banner he was entrusted with upright until he breathed his last. Several Guardsmen rushed forward to catch the falling regimental standard, but a Commissar beat them to it. Gripping the pole in one hand, he knelt down and closed the deceased's eyes. Slowly standing back up, he drew his chainsword with a flourish and raised both weapon and banner into the air.

"_Guardsmen, follow me to glory!"_ he bellowed.

A united battle cry echoed through the trenches as the surrounding Guardsmen clambered out of the trench. A ripple effect permeated through the line as thousands of men and women joined the charge across the no man's land. Though the standard was battered and torn with age, one could still clearly see it belonged to the Cadian 84th Regiment. It mattered not. Whether Cadian, Vostroyan, Catachan, Valhallan, or one of the thousands of other worlds that the Imperium once encompassed, they all rallied behind the banner raised high as they charged into the no man's land.

The Imperial victory at Tharsis Plateau was merely a prelude to some of Terra's darkest days.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope this was worth the wait!

Also, the compiled _Code Geass 50k_ soundtrack, with a few minor changes.

OP 1: Ruina Imperii - Sabaton  
OP 2/Black Knights Theme: Union - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Beneath the Red Sands arc): Suicide Mission - Mass Effect 2 OST  
Insert Song (Great War/Great Crusade arc): The Lion from the North - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Craftworld Invasion arc)/Eldar Theme: Glorious Land - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Battle for Parynor): 1648 - Sabaton  
Insert Song (Kallen vs. Fulgrim battle): Battle Music - Witcher 2 OST  
Insert Song (Metal Monsters arc): Panzerkampf - Sabaton  
Kallen Theme: Heart of Courage - Two Steps from Hell  
Lelouch Theme: Carolus Rex - Sabaton  
Suzaku Theme: Archangel - Two Steps from Hell  
ED 1: En Livstid i Krig - Sabaton  
ED 2: The Unsung War - Ace Combat 5 OST


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven: Metal Monsters II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own _Code Geass_ or _Warhammer_.

**A/N:** And so begins another major arc! Hopefully, the lessons learned during the Craftworld Invasion arc will be of use for the Metal Monsters arc.

Additionally, we have not one, but two cameos in this arc! Be on the lookout for them!

Finally, insert shameless plug about the _Code Geass 50k_ TVTropes page here. I'm taking a hands-off approach to that one, because I don't want my own perceptions tainting the tropes list.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Metal Monsters, Part II**

**Chaos Battleship **_**Chaos Ascendant  
**_**017.M51, Day Two of the Battle of Mars**

"My lord," the Chaos Champion cowered before the Despoiler's towering form, "An Imperial counterattack has driven the forces at Tharsis Plateau back into space."

Not a single thrall dared so much as breathe as Abaddon slowly turned around to face his subordinate. Several nearly tripped over their own feet backing away as his grip on Drach'nyen tightened, catching themselves at the last moment lest they catch their lord's attention.

"And why have we landed no additional forces to reopen that front?" the Champion of Chaos Undivided rumbled, clearly displeased.

"My lord," the traitor Astartes' shoulders noticeably tensed up, "The counterattack on the ground was followed by one in space. Imperial forces have closed the pocket."

"I see," Abaddon acknowledged in a dangerously quiet voice.

The Astartes' shoulders visibly sagged in relief as Abaddon loosened his grip and slowly turned away. Taking it as a sign to leave, the Champion cautiously stood up, wondering if he should thank his lord for showing mercy. Before he could blink, Drach'nyen reappeared in the Despoiler's hand and struck. The Chaos Space Marine looked down in shock as his abdomen split open, spilling his intestines out onto the deck. A second slash separated his head from his shoulders.

"Gather them up," Abaddon ordered nobody in particular as he motioned towards the spilled viscera, "Deliver them to my sorcerers. Tell them they'd best have results by tomorrow, lest their own entrails be used for the next divination."

As his thralls jumped to obey, the Despoiler turned and left the bridge. The loss of Tharsis would set him back, but he was far from finished.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Three Hours Later**

Though several hours had passed since his arrival, Lelouch could still sense the quiet awe that hung in the air. Even Colonel General Lilia Majka, a seasoned flag officer with decades of experience, was struck mute by his sudden appearance. CC's heels clicked against the thin sheet metal floors as she lead him through the corridors, the dozens of patrolling Knightmares parting to let her pass.

The sound of heels crashing against the floor echoed throughout the command post as Lelouch rounded the final corner. Two militiamen, standing ramrod-straight and weapons held at port arms, stood in front of the doors. The two Knightmares wordlessly parted to allow the two of them through.

* * *

Lelouch entered to find adequate, if spartan, quarters. Four more Knightmares stood watch within, one in each corner of the room. Two heads turned to track the new arrivals, while the other two remained facing the occupant. An unspoken truth hung in the air: the arrangements were a formality at best. Six guards and thin sheet metal walls had no chance of stopping a Primarch.

"Is this really necessary?" Lelouch asked nobody in particular.

"Just the regs, sir," one of the four answered.

"Leave us," CC ordered.

Without a word, the four militiamen filed out of the room. From how quickly their footsteps cut off, Lelouch reckoned they were waiting just outside. CC stayed near the perimeter of the chamber as Lelouch slowly approached the kneeling figure at its center. Dark-skinned and rippling with muscle, the Primarch easily stood taller than CC even while on his knees.

"Father," a booming voice echoed throughout the adjacent corridors, "You have called me back to your side. Have the End Times finally arrived?"

"Yes, my son, they have," Lelouch declared with the regality that once swayed entire civilizations to the Imperial Truth, "Your warriors are ready to march into the final battle. Are you ready to take your place at their head?"

"Yes, father," Vulkan slowly stood up from his meditative pose, "I am ready."

"Good," CC interjected, "I'll have Colonel General Majka's men return your arms and armor immediately."

The Primarch had never seen the coldly beautiful immortal before, yet he felt an instant sense of familiarity. Only once before had he experienced such a sensation: when he reunited with his father on Nocturne all those millennia ago. He shook his head to clear the thoughts as two militiamen entered the room, one pushing an antigravity platform bearing his power armor and the other carrying his massive warhammer.

Naturally reluctant to trust others with properly caring for his gear, Vulkan meticulously inspected each piece before donning it. A cold feeling ran down the Primarch's spine as he reached down to fasten his massive greaves. Every fiber of his body screamed of a Warp presence behind him, yet he felt soothed rather than revolted.

* * *

**Ultramarines Staging Ground  
Argyre Planatia, Surface of Mars**

Roboute Guilliman surveyed the scene before him with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Not only the Ultramarines themselves, but also what remained of their myriad successor chapters, had gathered in hopes of catching a glimpse of their Primarch. They stood in neat ranks, their weapons and armor polished as well as they could manage. Yet, for every Chapter banner he recognized, a dozen more were missing.

"_Brothers, do you accept this Oath of the Moment?"_ Guilliman boomed, his voice carrying far even without the aid of a vox caster, _"As the foul legions of Chaos batter at the gates, do you swear to defend Mars and Holy Terra to your final breath? Do you swear to never take a single step back, to form a wall against which the tides of Chaos will break and shatter?"_

"_In the name of the Emperor, and on these weapons, we do so swear!"_ the assembled Astartes shouted in unison, raising their bolters and chainswords into the air.

Guilliman's spine tingled as he lowered his Power Fist. The air felt heavy with Warp-stuff, yet the Primarch sensed no malevolence. He felt warm breath tickling his ear, but his neck refused to turn. His limbs felt impossibly heavy and his throat unbelievably dry.

* * *

**Imperial Defense Line  
Cydonia Region, Surface of Mars**

While the defenders of Tharsis focused on exhausting the invaders with static defenses, the forces at Cydonia allowed them to land. When the enemy had spread themselves thin amongst the region's labyrinthine valleys and sprawling mesas, they struck. Isolating small pockets of Abaddon's forces and utterly annihilating them with traps and ambushes, the Raven Guard and the 34th Militia Group inflicted a frightening toll on the enemy.

* * *

Burnt-out vehicles littered the valley floor as Astartes warriors and Black Knights militiamen combed through the aftermath. Enemy corpses were shot again or simply piled high and burned with flamers. The wounded were attended to and the dead underwent final rites. Amidst the activity, two figures walked side-by-side.

"Your men fight well, Lieutenant," Corax commented to the Knightmare beside him, "Had they been sons of Deliverance, I have no doubt they would have been Raven Guard."

Though he had faced down Dark Eldar, Orks, Tyranids, and daemons, Second Lieutenant Jarmil Dahl still felt intimidated by the Primarch. The dark-haired man towered over him, Knightmare and all. During the battle, a Khornate Berserker had overpowered the Lieutenant and began choking the life out of him. Corax effortlessly pried the genetically-enhanced servant of Chaos away and crushed him underfoot with all the regard one would give a particularly unpleasant insect.

"And had your Astartes been Black Knights, I would have been proud to have them in my platoon," Jamil carefully replied.

A sudden chill gave Corax pause. He could feel a presence inching up on both of them, yet the Lieutenant seemed unperturbed. From what he had pieced together, the Black Knights perceived the Warp differently, but the Primarch doubted their perception differed to the extent that they could simply ignore such a massive presence. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Jamil continued walking even as the well of power drew closer.

The Primarch of the Raven Guard felt a small hand touch his pauldron, but his throat constricted and his body refused to turn.

* * *

**Imperial Defense Line  
Syrtis Major Region, Surface of Mars**

With a fearsome battle cry erupting from his lips, Lion El'Jonson rushed towards the group of traitor Astartes, his sword raised high. Bolt shells zipped past him, some coming close enough to singe his hair with their exhaust. As he drew closer, time seemed to slow. The Dark Angels fighting beside him moved as if walking underwater. Even his mighty swing gradually slowed until it came to a halt mere millimeters from the first traitor's helmet.

"Lion El'Jonson," a clear feminine voice called.

An involuntary shiver travelled up his spine as a presence slowly walked around him, staying just out of his peripheral vision. He sensed the touch of the Warp, yet he felt no taint.

* * *

**White Scars Staging Ground  
Ismenius Lacus Region, Surface of Mars**

Though the sight of the Phoenix Lord Maugan Ra had initially turned a few heads, none of the White Scars dared speak up. Jaghatai Khan had declared the Eldar an honored guest, placing his yurt next to the Primarch's own. A large Eldar war host arrived soon afterwards, setting up camp near the Astartes'. If nothing else, the all-encompassing threat of Chaos and the mutual penchant for high-speed warfare kept relations between the camps cordial, if cold.

The Khan resided in a sparsely-furnished hut, barely distinguishable from the others. A mat barely large enough for his massive frame was crammed into one corner, with the majority of the interior taken up by a massive table laden with maps. The Primarch and the Phoenix Lord had spent countless hours poring over the Ismenius Lacus' terrain in hopes of finding additional ways to make life miserable for the rapidly-closing Chaos forces.

At the current moment, the topological charts lay forgotten. Jaghatai Khan and Maugan Ra stood frozen in place, their blades forced down by one willowy finger apiece. Disbelief overcame both of them as a lithe female stepped into their fields of view. Were it not for the mind-boggling Warp presence surrounding her, they would have taken her for some nobleman's pampered daughter. She greeted them by name and with a pleasant smile, as though she were meeting friends for afternoon tea.

"The forces of Chaos gather," she declared in a suddenly-grim voice, "The question to ask during the upcoming battle is not _if_ Abaddon's invasion can be stopped, but _for how long_ the defenses around Mars can delay it."

* * *

**Space Wolves Staging Ground  
Mare Boreum Region, Surface of Mars**

A million questions ran through Leman Russ' mind. Who was this woman? How did she slip into feasting fall undetected? Why were none of his warriors reacting to her presence? Most puzzling of all, _how was she drinking Mjod without vomiting her internal organs out?_

"I've cast an illusion around us. So far as your Space Wolves are concerned, I'm not here and you are feasting enough for any ten of them," the intruder answered.

The Primarch's eyes bugged out as the dainty-looking pinkette downed the last of her drink and reached to refill the pilfered tankard. By the Emperor, he had seen _Astartes_ struggle to keep the potent brew down!

"This is no longer a struggle to save the Imperium. Sickness has festered within its heart for too long, hopelessly corrupting your father's grand dream," the Guardian continued, "Do not fight for an already-dead Imperium, but for the chance to forge a new one."

"_I will not stand idly by as you speak such insults,_ witch!" Russ roared, struggling against the psychic suggestion that held him in place.

"Abaddon marches on Mars with an army larger than any before it! The Black Crusades? The Age of Apostasy? _The Horus Heresy?_ _All dwarfed by the battle to come!_" Euphemia roared, the fierceness of her tone giving even the Primarch pause, "In its glory days, the Imperium would have just barely stopped such an attack. Now? The only question is how long you can delay the inevitable."

"You either state the obvious or speak in riddles," Russ growled, "Did you come simply to mock us? Or do you have some more insidious purpose?"

"Argyre Planitia," the pinkette announced as she slowly faded from view, "Abaddon will attack Argyre Planitia. I have placed a Warp storm in their path, but it will delay the main invasion fleet's arrival by half a day at most. The vanguard fleet—among them the Despoiler's new flagship, the _Chaos Ascendant_—is arriving as we speak."

* * *

**Chaos Battleship **_**Chaos Ascendant  
**_**Vicinity of Mars**

"Warp jump successful, my lord," a thrall meekly reported, "We have emerged within optimal weapons range of the planet."

"And what of the invasion fleet?" Abaddon snapped impatiently.

"A s-s-sudden Wa-Warp st-storm cut t-them off, my-my lord," the cultist stammered, nearly soiling himself as the Despoiler glared at him, "S-s-s-sev-several shi-shi-ships we-were de-destroyed tr-trying t-to na-navigate it."

"It appears my masters were displeased with the latest sacrifice," Abaddon rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a sadistic grin appearing on his face.

Several of the bridge crew died from sheer fright, and many others sank into their seats in a futile effort to turn invisible. The fortunate few stationed near the exit outright fled. Those that remained breathed a collective sigh of relief as Abaddon's sword remained resting against his command throne. However, even as he slowly turned towards the hololith, nobody dared relax just yet. He stared intently at the tactical map for several minutes, as if projecting his anger at the fleets around Mars. Finally, he pointed at a sizable concentration of Chaos warships over Mars' southern hemisphere. From the looks of it, they were attempting to mount a breakthrough.

"The flesh and souls of these incompetents will do nicely. Charge the vortex cannon."

'Yes, my lord."

* * *

**Black Knights Dreadnought **_**Jakarta  
**_**Orbit of Mars**

"Enemy fleet rallying, sir," one of the sensor officers reported, "Looks like they're coming in for another attack."

"Don't let them get too close," Fleet Admiral Biondi ordered, "Tell all ships to fire at their discretion."

"Sir, sensors have detected additional warships emerging from the Warp," another technician announced moments later, "Visual data available."

"Put it up," Suzaku interjected.

Having been captured over titanic distances, the images were grainy—the inevitable byproduct of the _Jakarta_'s computers repeatedly cropping and enhancing them—but adequate. Most of the ships were familiar Chaos and Imperial designs, but the battleship at the fleet's center caught Suzaku's attention. Consisting of impossible angles and curves, such a vessel could only be the product of the Warp's madness. Merely looking at it sent white-hot spears of pain shooting through the immortal's skull, and he clutched his head in agony.

"Sir, should I fetch a medic?" a nearby bridge officer rushed up to Suzaku.

"No," he gasped out, leaning on the officer for support, "I'll be fine. Kill the visual."

Though the pain gradually lessened, a dull throbbing at the back of his skull remained. He sensed that the new Chaos warship held secrets far more sinister than its maddening lines. In his millennia on the battlefield, he had witnessed all manner of foul sorceries and stomach-churning rituals. He had looked upon the revolting visages of Great Unclean Ones and beheld the terrible secrets locked within a Lord of Change's eyes, yet few had affected him as severely. It felt as though he were standing at the outskirts of an apocalyptically-powerful Warp storm.

"Sir," another bridge officer looked up confusedly, "We can't get a decent reading on the new arrivals. Something in that fleet's vicinity is playing merry havoc on our sensors."

Suzaku's eyes widened with terrible realization. He vaulted over the Fleet Admiral, launching over several console banks and landing at the communications station. Shoving aside a very surprised technician, he smashed the button for an all-channels broadcast.

"This is General Suzaku Kururugi to all 21st Fleet units, emergency tactical jump! _Now!_"

An ordered chaos reigned on the _Jakarta_'s bridge. Hurried status reports were shouted across every channel as the ship's skimmer drive charged at a borderline-dangerous rate. Friendly ships disappeared from the tactical map by the dozens. They jumped at random vectors to random destinations, so long as said destinations were located outside of their current sector. Confused requests for status updates began pouring in from allied warships.

"Get our allies on the line! Tell them to clear the area if they want to live!"

"Warp incursion detected!"

* * *

Built with forbidden knowledge unlocked from the Blackstone Fortresses, the _Chaos Ascendent_'s main gun was a horrific weapon against which there existed no defense. Driven by twisted perversions of ancient Eldar technology and sorceries most foul, the vortex cannon unleashed the fury of the Warp upon Abaddon's enemies. It tore the already-weakened veil between reality and madness to shreds, allowing the abominations beyond to pour through.

The Black Knights' timely warnings saved some allied warships, but many more met gruesome fates. The titanic currents of the Immaterium smashed kilometers-long battleships into twisted scrap. The clashing forces crushed others into microscopic specks or pulled their hulls in a million different directions. A billion damned souls could only scream as daemons dragged them towards an eternity of torment. Not even the ships at the storm's edge were spared, as tendrils of Warp-stuff snaked from the tear in reality and pulled them to their doom.

* * *

**Imperial Battleship **_**Emperor's Vengeance  
**_**Lower Mars Orbit**

Lord Admiral Nolan Giarputto coughed, adding more blood to the rapidly-congealing mess on his uniform. Every nerve felt as though it was ablaze, and each breath he took only worsened the pain. Trying to open his eyes, he could only see pitch blackness. The image of a live wire flying across the bridge and striking him across the face swam up through the pain-induced haze. With great effort, he tried to shift his mangled body, only to find that a jagged piece of shrapnel had impaled him to the bulkhead. Even if he had the strength to pull it out, doing so would have done little good: a massive girder had also landed across his lap, shattering both his legs.

Pained coughing and the sound of a body dragging itself across the floor caught Nolan's attention, and he turned to face the direction of the noise.

"C-Captain A-Aer-Aerss-sens?" he choked out.

"The Ca-Cap-Captain's dead," the other voice gasped in response, "Fl-flying sheet of me-met-metal to-took his he-head off."

"C-can you see?" the Lord Admiral whispered, a desperate idea forming.

"Y-yes, L-Lo-Lord Admiral."

"I ne-need you to fi-find the naviga-navigation sta-station. See if the Wa-Warp Drive is still op-oper-operational."

Pained grunts filled the bridge, and Nolan could hear the other survivor slowly stand up. He heard several crashes followed by weak swearing, then silence. He sank back against the bulkhead, fearing the worst.

"I-it's g-go-good for one more j-jump," the other voice informed him, "B-but it'll rip the sh-shi-ship apart…"

"D-does-doesn't matter," Nolan coughed up more blood, "Pr-program it for th-that blas-blast's or-ori-origin. Th-the-they mus-musn't fi-fire that wea-weapon again…"

Only the sounds of mangled hands tapping the keys one-by-one told the Lord Admiral that his companion had not succumbed. The blaring klaxons that told the crew to prepare for Warp jump had never sounded sweeter to the old man's ears.

"What's your name, son?" Nolan asked on a whim, the pain slowly fading.

"I ne-never had one, L-Lord Admiral…"

"That simply won't do," the dying Lord Admiral chuckled, "How about 'Aras'? If I ever had a son, I would have named him that…"

"Th-thank you, Lord Ad-Admiral," the newly-christened Aras blinked back tears.

"Well, then, Aras," Nolan whispered as the final countdown to Warp jump began, "Care to lead an old man in the Emperor's Prayer?"

"The Emperor is my savior…"

"_All hands, prepare for Warp jump in three."_

"He is my protector…"

"_Two."_

"With the Emperor at my side, I shall fear nothing…"

"_One."_

* * *

**Chaos Battleship **_**Chaos Ascendant  
**_**Vicinity of Mars**

"My lord, the main fleet reports that the Warp storms are subsiding!" a Champion of Nurgle knelt before Abaddon's command throne.

"Good. How long until they arrive?"

"Warmaster Aruthotil reports that a wave of troops will arrive through the Warp rift momentarily, my lord," the bloated Astartes wheezed, "However, the Warp storms intensified shortly after he dispatched the first convoy. He estimates a six-hour delay on the second wave."

"Too long," Abaddon rumbled, causing the Champion to shrink away, "What's the status of the vortex cannon?"

"Charging for a second shot, my lord," a nearby thrall nearly stammered, "Ninety seconds remaining!"

Abaddon stood up, Drach'nyen still perched against his command throne. The Nurglite Chaos Space Marine scampered out of the Despoiler's path as he strode over to the tactical map. His eyes hungrily scanned the readout, seeking a suitable group of enemies and incompetents to offer his masters. The last sacrifice dwarfed some Imperial worlds and included many of the accursed Black Knights, yet it had not pleased the Ruinous Powers enough for them to lift the sudden Warp storm. The next offering would have to be _massive_ in scale. Perhaps if he turned the vortex cannon on the planet itself…

A collision alarm interrupted the Despoiler's train of thought. Before he could demand a status report, the entire ship rocked. Abaddon was thrown off his feet, flying backwards and smashing the Champion of Chaos between his massive bulk and his command throne. Several thralls flew forward and dashed their skulls against their consoles or were thrown from their seats.

"Damage report!" Abaddon demanded.

"Imperial battleship, Emperor-class, my lord!" one of the few surviving bridge crew frantically relayed, "It dropped out of the Warp right on top of us and rammed us! Extreme damage in all bow compartments, and the vortex cannon is offline!"

The Despoiler unleashed a furious roar, grabbing the unfortunate thrall and holding him before his face. As the tattooed and mutilated cultist begged for mercy, Abaddon's massive hands ripped off each of his limbs before twisting his head off. He dropped the torso to the ground and turned to face his stunned crew.

"Have somebody clean this mess up, and get a new crew up here!" he barked, "Plot a course to…"

As he turned around, Abaddon saw the _Chaos Ascendant_'s late helmsman slumped over the console, an unrecognizable pulp replacing his face. Growling, the Despoiler seized the corpse and smashed it against the wall. Glancing around, he snatched the closest thrall and deposited the surprised woman into the helmsman's chair.

"We're withdrawing. Plot a course to the rally point," he growled, "And if you can't operate your new station, _I suggest you learn before my patience runs out!_"

* * *

**Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Mamba Leader  
Skies Above Argyre Planitia, Mars**

"Hold formation! Don't lose sight of each other!"

With sensor and pilot alike blinded by the fury of the vortex cannon, midair collisions exacted a frightening toll on airborne units. Entire squadrons were reduced to flaming wrecks during the first few chaotic moments. Even after the storms began subsiding and some semblance of order was established, the blast's aftereffects continued wreaking merry havoc on the remaining aerial forces. Many Eldar pilots either passed out at their controls or had their souls outright ripped from their bodies by the shockwaves, clogging the skies with hundreds of hypersonic dumbfire missiles. More than one Imperial craft turned into impromptu battlefields as those whose minds were destroyed by the Warp's madness attempted to wrestle control from their still-sane counterparts. Even the hardened sensor suites aboard Black Knights and Tau craft failed to escape unscathed, forcing the pilots to navigate with little more than their own eyesight.

Mamba Leader counted five surviving craft, and her heads-up display confirmed as much. The earlier fighting had claimed five of her pilots, another had died outright when the storm hit, and two more were lost to midair collisions. Allied aircraft blindly thrashed about, huddling together in hopes of finding safety, and Mamba Squadron soon found a gaggle of Imperial, Eldar, and Tau aircraft following it. The residual radiation made long-range communications and sensor sweeps impossible, reducing them to the most rudimentary of methods. Aircraft navigated by following the one in front of them and talked via tight-beam laser broadcasts and military flash code.

"Damn! Three o'clock, angels high! That cruiser's not breaking up!

A macabre meteor shower dominated the skyline as mortally wounded warships broke up and deorbited, the debris burning up in the atmosphere. Mamba Leader slowly turned her head up and to the right, her breath hitching as she spied the massive form of a Lunar-class cruiser plunging through the upper atmosphere. It was only the stern section, and she could see that it was rapidly shedding mass even from such a distance. At the same time, she could also see that it wasn't breaking up fast enough and that an impact would have catastrophic effects on the ground forces.

"Mamba Squadron, accelerate to interception velocity and weapons free," she ordered as her wingmen relayed the message to their allies, "We can't let that cruiser hit the ground in one piece."

As she opened the throttle and floored the accelerate, Mamba Leader tried her best to not think of the tens of thousands doubtlessly still left alive aboard the doomed ship. From what she knew of Imperial ship design, many were probably not even aware of their impending deaths. She pictured them dutifully loading the cruiser's massive guns with muscle and chain, awaiting an order to fire that would never come.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Lelouch could only stare at the tactical map in wide-eyed shock as the casualty reports continued rolling in. The running count was superimposed over the main display, and it continued soaring with no signs of slowing down. Imperial casualties had already reached the tens of millions, and Black Knights losses easily topped tens of thousands. Factoring in the losses sustained by the Eldar and Tau, and more people had died in just the last ten minutes than the entirety of the Great War.

To Lelouch's ears, the normally-quiet beep that accompanied a major tactical map update sounded like the shrillest of klaxons. Chaos warships burst forth from Altansar, cutting into the wound and opening it wider. Dozens of confused and panicked communications played over one another as the surviving space forces attempted to piece their shattered chain of command back together. As the Emperor of Mankind watched helplessly on long-range sensors, the corrupted Craftworld's massive bulk inched towards Mars. The few ships that managed to regroup either scattered or were destroyed as Craftworld Altansar settled in upper Martian orbit.

"This is the _Jakarta_. We have sustained extreme damage and are deorbiting! Repeat, we have sustained _extreme _damage and are deorbiting!"

"Chaos resistance is too heavy! We can't break through!"

"The _Jakarta_'s breaking up in the atmosphere!"

The strength left Lelouch's legs, and he slowly sank to his knees. Vulkan maintained a respectful distance while CC placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Lelouch watched mutely as a stream of red triangles, no doubt the first wave of an invasion force, emerged from the Warp rift within Altansar and made for the planet surface.

* * *

**A/N:** So...can we say shit is now getting real? Is Abaddon not such an incompetent fuckwit after all? Is Suzaku actually dead? What are the "metal monsters"? Are you reading this in a movie trailer voice?


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Metal Monsters III

**Disclaimer:** Insert the usual stuff about Warhammer 40k and Code Geass and how I don't own either here.

**A/N:** And the Metal Monsters arc reaches a fever pitch!

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Metal Monsters, Part III**

**Chaos Battle Barge **_**Iron Blood  
**_**Orbit of Mars**

Built with the same cold logic that defined its masters, the _Iron Blood_ eschewed viewports in favor of auspex arrays. The numerous logic engines reduced the titanic slugging match raging outside to multicolored runes flickering across a hololith display. The Iron Warriors that stood at the controls remained surprisingly free of mutation despite the numerous millennia spent within the Eye of Terror. The hulking form of Peturabo, his massive warhammer held loosely in one hand, stood at the front of the cavernous bridge.

"My lord," a Chaos Space Marine cautiously approached, dropping to one knee in deference to his Primarch.

"What is the situation?" the Daemon Prince rumbled.

"It appears that the enemy has given up on containing the breakthrough. Instead, they are focusing their strength into a series of collapsing skirmish lines," the fallen Astartes' voice wavered but remained steady, "The _Fist of Iron_ and its battle group were surrounded and destroyed."

The Iron Warrior bowed even lower as Peturabo slowly turned to face him. He dared not lift his head, but he could feel the Daemon Prince's gaze boring into the back of his skull.

"So the enemy hopes to bait us out and destroy us piecemeal," the Primarch casually dismissed the loss of a Grand Cruiser and its dozen escorts, "Draw all remaining units back to form a defensive perimeter. Instruct them to protect the Battle Barges at all costs."

"Yes, my lord," the Iron Warrior somehow bowed even deeper, but stayed in place.

"You have more news for me?"

"Units from the _Iron Resolve_ have boarded one of the Black Knights' warships, my lord. They report heavy resistance and moderate casualties."

"Inform the boarding teams to capture the enemy ship at all costs!" Peturabo showed uncharacteristic enthusiasm as a million possibilities raced through his mind, "Should they succeed, I will fill all their slave pits until they overflow!"

"At once, my lord."

* * *

**Sector C-13, Black Knights Cruiser **_**Dagr  
**_**Orbit of Mars**

"The enemy has breached Sector C-14!" Lieutenant Gerold Cernik announced over the company channel, "Positions, everyone!"

The heavy footfalls of fully-equipped Knightmares echoed through the corridors and drowned out the chanting of the approaching cultist horde. Several enterprising militiamen had dragged footlockers and tables from adjacent rooms for use as makeshift cover. Others pressed themselves against the bare metal walls in order to present a smaller target to the enemy.

"_Iron within, iron without!"_ bellowed an unseen enemy, heralding the Chaos charge.

"The first waves will just be slave-soldiers." Gerold calmly informed his subordinates, "Blasters and blades only. Save your hadron rifle charges for the Space Marines!"

Though the enemy came in great numbers, the _Dagr_'s relatively-narrow corridors funneled them into the defenders' waiting guns. A faint _zip_ told Gerold that his Knightmare's capacitors had finished charging. Hurriedly stowing his hadron assault rifle, he raised an arm towards the oncoming horde. Even as rounds ricocheted off the walls and the deck plates vibrated with the numerous footfalls, the Black Knights held their fire.

True to the Lieutenant's words, the first wave of attackers consisted solely of expendable cannon fodder. Prisoners of war, servants who had somehow displeased their heretical masters, and those whose minds were shattered by combat drugs threw themselves at the defenders. Most were dressed in rags and wielded improvised melee weapons, though a few had scavenged weapons and armor from fallen PDF or Imperial Guard forces.

"Open fire!"

A torrent of cherry-red beams ripped through the enemy, punching through armor and cultists with equally-frightening ease. Battle cries turned into howls of terror and the screams of the maimed and dying drowned out the hadron blasters' buzzsaw-like ripping. The militia lines did not waver even as the enemy entered melee range. Red flashes accompanied weapons and flesh vaporizing against hadron fields.

* * *

With a mighty roar, the cultist swung a rusted saber at the Knightmare before him. Triumph morphed into horror as the blade disappeared mere centimeters from the titan's armor. Sergeant Victor Dziedzic allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction when his opponent paled and tried to run. The cultist proved not quite as resilient, with the Sergeant's hadron field-assisted punch replacing his chest with a gaping hole. Another servant of Chaos tripped over the body in his eagerness to join the brawl, falling to the ground before Victor. A savage stomp ensured he would not get back up.

"Their attack's losing steam! Keep up the pressure!"

Two cultists jumped forward to replace Victor's late opponent. One brandished a spear while the other wielded a clearly-nonfunctional autogun mounting a very functional bayonet. Ducking beneath the initial thrusts, the militiaman ignited his hadron blades. With two simultaneous motions, he sliced both of them in half: one from crotch to crown and the other at the waist.

"Another wave incoming!"

Victor kicked the legs out from beneath yet another slave-soldier, ramming his blade through the enemy's chest before she hit the ground.

* * *

**Chaos Battle Barge **_**Iron Blood  
**_**Orbit of Mars**

"Are the preparations complete?" Peturabo demanded without so much as turning around.

"Yes, my lord," the kneeling Iron Warrior reported without delay, "The Battle Barges are in position and the gun deck reports all bombardment cannons loaded and ready to fire."

"Excellent," the Daemon Prince rumbled, "Commence planetary bombardment."

* * *

**Argyre Planitia  
Surface of Mars**

The booming of bolters and the whirring of chainswords filled the air of Argyre Planitia as the dwindling sea of blue struggled to stem the blasphemous tide. Though the vortex cannon had ravaged the surface for many hundreds of kilometers around, nowhere were the effects more profoundly felt than in the impact basin the Ultramarines swore to defend. The already-weakened veil between reality and madness ripped open, unleashing a daemonic horde of apocalyptic proportions. From savage Bloodthirsters to bloated Great Unclean Ones, all manner of horrors assailed the Astartes positions.

"Stand fast, brothers!" Guilliman urged, "Remember your oath! Not a single step back!"

A high-pitched screech assaulted the Primarch's ears, and he whirled around to face the threat. A hail of storm bolter fire answered the Daemonette assault, shredding their physical forms and banishing their essences back to the Immaterium. Guilliman suspected it would take them mere minutes to re-manifest.

"Above us!"

Roboute swung his Power Fists in great arcs, smashing the swarm of flying daemons that descended upon him. Gouts of flame crisscrossed the skies, roasting a great many of the putrid creatures, but the horde seemed endless. Several brothers were carried off, screaming and struggling as they were dropped into the ravenous horde below. Others were reduced to ribbons of flesh by the thousands of razor-sharp claws.

"My lord, behind you!" a Novamarine cried out as he rushed forward, wildly spraying bolter fire into the mass of daemonic flesh and muscle before him.

The Bloodthirster of Khorne regarded the Astartes with little more than minor annoyance as bolter shells bounced off of his Warp-forged armor. With a bestial roar, it picked its assailant up and ripped him in two, sucking out the innards as though enjoying a treat. Blood still dripping from its mouth, the greater daemon tossed the empty halves of power armor aside and turned towards Guilliman.

Angered beyond words, the Primarch rushed forward and smashed the daemon's knee with a savage swing of his Power Fist. As the Bloodthirster roared in pain, Roboute whirled around and emptied the last of his storm bolter ammunition into its other knee, sending the great beast crashing to the ground. Roaring in pain and rage, the daemon drew its arm back in preparation to strike with its whip. Guilliman smashed the offending elbow with a punishing uppercut and dropped his massive weight onto its shoulder, rendering the limb useless.

The Bloodthirster wildly swung its massive axe in a last-ditch attempt to fight off the enraged Primarch. Roboute caught the attack with one hand, smashing the weapon's handle to splinters as his other hand snapped the daemon's forearm in two. Squashing down the savage glee that rushed through his veins, Guilliman raised his Power Fist and bought it down on his opponent's skull with a triumphant roar. The resulting psychic backlash nearly knocked the Primarch off his feet and destroyed scores of surrounding lesser daemons.

The brutal beatdown had lasted mere seconds and granted the Ultramarines the long-sought opportunity to seize the initiative. Astartes vaulted over their fortified positions and fell upon the disoriented horde, banishing daemons back to the Warp by the hundreds. Roboute's tunnel vision cleared up in time to witness the Ancient gore a Horror with the butt of his flagstaff and use the impaled monstrosity as a makeshift club to smash aside the rest of its pack. When the chittering beast split into two smaller daemons, the veteran Space Marine sent one flying with an elbow to the face and bought his bolt pistol to bear on the other. Mere meters away, an Assault Marine grappling with a Bloodthirster was run through from behind by a Plaguebearer's disease-infused blade.

Filled with renewed vigor, Roboute Guilliman raised the Gauntlets of Ultramar into the air and rushed to join the fray. The skies suddenly split and the world became engulfed in flame, and not even a Primarch could remain standing in the face of the shockwaves that followed.

* * *

Far above the chaos at Argyre Planitia, the Iron Warriors' carefully planned battle formations kept the defenders at bay. At the clash's center lay the stricken _Dagr_, its few remaining weapons forming a formidable gauntlet for would-be boarders. The sheer amount of ordnance flying across the battlefield blinded many a sensor suite, but the two fleets were so densely-packed and so close together that precise aim proved nearly unnecessary. Volley after disciplined volley from the Tau and the Eldar's devastating hit-and-run attacks stopped any Chaos attack before it could gather steam, and the flurry of torpedoes and lances from the Iron Warriors' fleet reduced even the mightiest Imperial and Black Knights warships to lifeless hulks.

A single Imperial warship—a tiny Sword-class escort—had somehow defied the odds and became the only allied vessel out of a dozen failed charges to reach the disabled Black Knights cruiser. Chaos weapons fire promptly crippled the diminutive frigate, but not before hundreds of void-suited Naval Security Troopers were deployed to aid the besieged _Dagr_. A torpedo blew the tiny escort in two, sending its stern section spinning off into space. However, the bow half continued on the warship's previous course and smashed into the _Iron Resolve_. Having lowered its void shields in preparation for a teleporter assault, the much larger Iron Warriors cruiser sustained catastrophic damage in the collision. In a twist that reaffirmed many an Imperial's faith in the Emperor, the conjoined hulks travelled at just the right trajectory to mask the _Dagr_ from the Chaos fleet's sensors.

The battle only intensified as the Battle Barges at the Chaos fleet's center opened fire with their bombardment turrets. Hundreds of magma bomb warheads streaked through the Martian atmosphere, annihilating vast swathes of terrain wherever they hit. The release of energy sent many orbital sensors into overload, and a few of the explosions were visible even to the unaided eye.

Fueled by desperation, the remaining defenders surged forward with no regard for having enough ships left over to repel future attacks. Caught off-guard, the Iron Warriors fleet was slow to react and only mustered sporadic and inaccurate volleys when they did. Spearheaded by the Black Knights dreadnought _Beijing_ and the Eldar battleship _Khaine's Wrath_, the desperate charge plunged deep into the enemy flank. Endless waves of warships poured from the corrupted Craftworld Altansar, but the allied fleet continued to bludgeon their way through.

With the Chaos lines finally broken, the battle devolved into a point-blank slugging match. Tau warships pulled close enough for battle suit boarding teams to jump the gap. Eldar squadrons hugged their targets so closely that many an enemy gunner opted not to open fire lest risk self-destruction. Imperial ships engaged in some truly impressive ramming, reducing smaller foes to twisted wreckage and splitting the larger ones in two with their armored prows. Black Knights captains ordered FLEIJA volleys from dangerously-close ranges, tactical jumping away at literally the last second.

As the desperate clash dragged on, the Battle Barges continued to ravage the surface below.

* * *

**Sector C-13, Black Knights Cruiser **_**Dagr  
**_**Six Hours Later**

Though the Iron Warriors' slave-soldiers attacked in great numbers, they failed to so much as dent the lines of battle-hardened Black Knights militia. Forced into a densely-packed horde by the narrow corridors, they fell in great numbers to hadron blasters. When the fight inevitably became close-quarters, the militiamen's superior training, equipment, and discipline quickly prevailed. Panicked lasbolt volleys and autogun bursts hit more cultists and Black Knights, and the shots that found their mark simply bounced off their armor. Some tried to break and run, only to meet their ends at the bolters and chainswords of Astartes blocker units behind them.

Yet, the attack had accomplished exactly what its planners had hoped. Hours of frantic close-quarters fighting had taken their toll, and fatigue, both mental and physical, began setting in amongst the defenders.

* * *

Panting heavily and ears ringing from a fragmentation grenade that exploded a bit too close for comfort, Gerold forced his tired muscles to meet the oncoming Astartes' attack. Swinging his assault rifle out of the way, he ignited a hadron blade. The militiaman's opponent, unable to stop in time, impaled himself upon it. The Lieutenant gritted his teeth as a metric ton of muscle and ceramite transferred its momentum into his shoulder. With a Knightmare, he felt several bones crack. Without a Knightmare, his arm would have torn free of its socket. Bringing his weapon to bear, Gerold blew away a great chunk of the Space Marine's torso with a pump of his scatter cannon.

As his opponent slid to the floor, shock evident in his body language, the exhausted Lieutenant took a moment to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the company's newer members going hand-to-hand with an Iron Warrior. Despite the Chaos Space Marine having at least fifty kilograms of solid muscle over her and losing both her hadron projectors to a series of lucky swipes, she stood her ground. A deactivated Power Sword lay forgotten at both their feet. Gerold rushed forward as the Chaos Space Marine grabbed the militiawoman and threw her to the ground. To her credit, she took her opponent down with her. Before he could reach the pair, the traitor Astartes had retrieved his Power Sword and stabbed it through his opponent's chest and into the deck.

An inhumanly-loud roar drew Gerold's attention, and he barely managed to bring his assault rifle up to meet the incoming chainsword. Diamantine met rutalium carbide, sending sparks flying as the chainblade bit into the stubborn material. With a sudden burst of strength, Lieutenant Cernik swept his opponent's attack aside and used the momentum to propel his attack forward. The hadron blade through the stomach only enraged the Iron Warrior, but the blaster burst that followed put him down for good.

"_Iron within, iron without!"_

As yet another wave of fresh Iron Warriors joined fray, Gerold found himself losing hope. The number of active lifesigns dwindled with each passing second, yet the enemy's numbers showed no signs of thinning. News of an Imperial Navy boarding party storming the ship and fighting their way towards Black Knights lines had buoyed the defenders' spirits, but Gerold seriously doubted a couple hundred shotgun-wielding conscripts could take on Astartes.

Lowering his stance and planting his feet, Lieutenant Cernik met his next attacker head-on. His swing was interrupted by a Power Sword running him through from behind. Numerous warning messages appeared on Gerold's heads-up display as his Knightmare flooded the new hole in his chest with medical foam. Already going into shock from trauma and blood loss, the militiaman hardly noticed as the sword was withdrawn. He sank to his knees and dropped to the ground with a _thud_.

"_For Emperor and Imperium!"_

The final sight to reach Gerold's eyes was a dozen Imperial Navy Security Officers storming down the corridor, their massive shotcannons booming.

* * *

**Argyre Planitia  
Surface of Mars**

As suddenly as the bombardment began, it ended. Roboute Guilliman staggered to his feet, head still spinning from the concussive shockwaves. Wiping away the dust that caked his face, the Primarch of the Ultramarines cracked his eyes open. A scene of desolation greeted him. Massive craters, some so large that they stretched beyond the horizon, dotted the landscape. Thousands of dead Astartes and chunks of Astartes littered the ground as far as he could see, their blood staining Mars' soil a bright red. Clouds of smoke billowing from thousands of destroyed vehicles nearly blocked out the pink Martian skies.

Roboute's eyes snapped downwards as some hard crumpled beneath his foot. Seeing the ornate pauldron of an Ultramarines Honor Guard, he slowly knelt down and dedicated a moment of silence to the fallen. As he swore vengeance on the cowards who laid his brothers low, a series of far-off sonic booms reached Guilliman's ears. Standing up and looking to the skies, he saw hundreds of crimson streaks falling towards him. He feared another bombardment, but quickly realized he was looking at drop pods descending from orbit. He highly doubted they were friendlies.

Guilliman carefully avoided treading on the bodies of fellow Astartes as he made his way to the Ancient's charred corpse. The veteran Space Marine had died an agonizing death ensuring the Banner of Macragge neither touched the ground nor came to any harm. The heat had turned his armor into an oven, cooking his flesh and boiling his blood, and the pressure wave that followed crushed every hollow space in his body. His corpse remained standing, not by some last-breath determination, but instead because the white-hot temperatures had fused his armor servos.

"Rest now, brother," the Primarch of the Ultramarines whispered as he took up the standard, "In death, your duty ends."

Roboute whirled around, Power Fists ready to strike, at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He lowered his weapons at the sight of several dozen Astartes warriors dropping to one knee and placing their weapons on the ground in front of them. The heat had scorched the paint and markings off of their power armor, leaving only bare ceramite. The Primarch could not identify which of the Ultramarines' many successor chapters they belonged to, but he found it oddly appropriate. Several of the warriors had lost their helmets in the bombardment and the chaos that followed, and Guilliman only saw burning determination in their eyes.

Dust filled the air as the first wave of Iron Warriors drop pods smashed into the Martian soil. Within minutes, blasphemous battle cries and the rumbling of daemonic war machines filled the air. The very ground shook with the footfalls of countless slave-soldiers and their traitorous masters. The last of the once-great _Legio XIII_, less than one hundred in number, rose to their feet and readied their weapons. They remained stoic even as the vanguard of an innumerable horde emerged from the dust clouds.

"_Brothers!"_ Roboute bellowed as he raised the Banner of Macragge into the air, _"If this is to be the site of our final stand, we do it not as the Ultramarines and its successor chapters! We fight as the Thirteenth Legion!"_

"_Courage and honor!"_ the newly-reforged Legion roared in response.

"_Fight for Terra, and show these traitors how true Astartes die!"_

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

Though the tactical map now updated once an hour at most, Lelouch kept his eyes glued to the holographic display. The situation in orbit devolved into utter chaos as enemy warships poured from Craftworld Altansar by the thousands. The allied defenses, already pushed to the breaking point, buckled in several areas, allowing the enemy to reinforce their beleaguered beaches. A sizable Iron Warriors fleet—including a half-dozen Battle Barges—had taken up positions above Argyre Planitia. Fighting above the massive impact basin proved leagues above the rest in terms of scale and savagery as the remnants of the defending fleet desperately fought to prevent the capture of a besieged Black Knights cruiser and break through the enemy lines.

The situation on the ground quickly became just as bad, if not worse than, the one in orbit. Fresh Chaos troops landed by the millions, quickly tipping the bloody stalemate against the exhausted defenders. Only a timely intervention by the Tau saved the army at Syrtis Major from total annihilation, but the hundreds of thousands of Imperial Guardsmen and Astartes were forced to abandon or torch almost all of their equipment to hasten their withdrawal. The Cydonia region had gone silent upon Corax's horrified discovery that the enemy was using Raven Guard vox transmissions to guide airstrikes. Their preparations to mount a counteroffensive almost complete when the enemy attacked, the White Scars and Eldar forces repelled the Chaos offensive at Ismenius Lacus but sustained crippling losses in the meantime. Though the Space Wolves had lost their Thunderhawks to a surprise airstrike, the chapter itself remained combat-effective and had already begun rapid-marching from Mare Boreum.

Before leaving to join the Salamanders, Vulkan reluctantly confided in him about the Guardian's visit and the dire warning she brought. The Primarch clearly expected censure, no doubt remembering Lelouch's heavy-handed punishment of Magnus the Red. He nearly fell over in surprise when the amethyst-eyed immortal thanked him and speculated that he had encountered on the Warp's few benign denizens.

Whatever the Guardian's intentions, the current situation rendered her warning moot. Argyre Planitia would have occupied the forefront of Lelouch's concerns either way. Judging from the number of drop pods and troop transports, the enemy was pouring a disproportionate amount of forces into the region. Even more worrying, while they received at least sketchy details from the rest of the planet, they had no information on the situation at Argyre Planitia. The bulk and proximity of Craftworld Altansar, coupled with the sheer amount of ordnance flying between the two fleets, made orbital scans nearly impossible. The many thousands of Warp phenomena erupting within Argyre Planitia itself, already a very bad sign, similarly precluded sweeps by planet-based sensors. Abaddon's forces had also gone to great lengths to seize and maintain total air superiority above the impact basin, shooting down any reconnaissance craft that came close.

"Argyre Planitia," Lelouch announced without preamble as he turned towards the headquarters staff, "Why is it so important? What's there that merits enough troops to seize an entire planet?"

"According to Intelligence, there's a few mining facilities in the basin itself and a number of forges clustered around the rim," Colonel General Majka replied, "However, the mineral veins are long since exhausted and the concentration of heavy industry is no greater than any of the other areas the enemy's currently hitting."

"There has to be _something_ there!" Lelouch gritted his teeth in frustration, "Do we know what those forges produce?"

"The Mechanicum's stonewalled us every time we've asked," Lilia replied, the annoyance evident in her voice, "They eventually caved when we asked enough times about literally any other forge, but they're not budging on this one."

"Tell them," the temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Lelouch's voice took on a dangerous tone, "Tell them they can either willingly give the information, or my Custodes will take it by force."

* * *

**Argyre Planitia, Surface of Mars  
017.M51, Day Seven of the Battle of Mars**

Though every breath bought a new wave of agony as shards of his shattered ribcage drove deeper into his organs, Roboute forced himself to remain conscious. Despite his enhanced biology near-instantly sealing wounds, he had already lost enough blood that he could barely remain standing even while leaning against the flagstaff. Through blurred vision, he could see his brothers forming an ever-tightening circle around him.

What had started as a desperate last stand turned into a serious hurdle for the enemy as the Ultramarines' ranks swelled with additional survivors until the re-forged Thirteenth Legion had nearly tripled in size. Though hopelessly outnumbered, each Battle-Brother fought with the strength and ferocity of an entire army, driving back the Chaos horde time and time again. The sight of the Banner of Macragge inspired the Ultramarines to new heights of valor, and they continued to fight despite exhaustion and heavy wounds. When their ammunition ran out, they scavenged more from the dead. When their bolters jammed, they fell upon the enemy with chainswords. When their chainswords became clogged with flesh and viscera, they fought with fists. The past five days had seen the Ultramarines fight with unparalleled savagery, and Roboute could ask of no more from them.

Even now, exhausted and without weapons, the loyalists made the enemy pay for every centimeter of ground gained. Bodies—both cultist and Chaos Space Marine—covered the basin floor, piled six deep in some places. The forces of Chaos trampled their own dead into paste to reach the Ultramarines, and the Astartes gladly added them to the macabre carpet. Every Battle-Brother that fell only renewed their resolve to fight.

Roboute Guilliman fell as any Astartes could hope to fall: with his hands around the enemy's throat. Clutching the flagstaff for support, he swung his Power Fist in great arcs, smashing dozens of foes with each swing. Even as he sank to his knees, the front of his armor dyed an even deeper crimson with a dozen new wounds, he kept the Banner of Macragge upright in a final gesture of defiance. Swimming in and out of consciousness, the Primarch's ravaged body sank into the Martian dust.

Roars of blasphemous praise deafened Roboute as dozens of cultists fell upon him, striking him with clubs and swords or pounding him with bare hands and feet. The heretical litanies turned to screams of horror, which were then drowned out by the barking of bolter fire as Iron Warriors Chaos Space Marines unloaded clip and clip, first into their own slave-soldiers then into Guilliman's prostrate form. The Primarch bit his tongue. He would _not_ give them the satisfaction of crying out.

The rounds struck home and exploded, driving shrapnel into his back, shattering his bones, and rupturing his internal organs. Through the pain, Roboute felt a soothing presence hanging over him. The roaring praises to the Ruinous Powers, the booming of numerous bolters, and even time itself slowly ground to a halt. With great effort, he lifted his head to see the hem of a now-familiar pink dress.

"Th-the ba-ban-banner," Roboute choked out, "P-Pl-Please save i-i-it…"

As time resumed, the Primarch felt the flagstaff's weight slide out of his grip. Content that the final legacy of the Ultramarines now lay beyond the enemy's reach, Roboute Guilliman breathed his last and died.

* * *

**Black Knights 15****th**** Militia Field Headquarters  
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars**

With one word, the fact that the forges at Argyre Planitia were the last in Imperial hands capable of producing Scourge-pattern bolters and Sabbat-pattern power armor became insignificant. With a single word, the shipment of completed Exorcists and Immolators sitting on the production floor no longer mattered. With six letters, the entire situation on Mars changed.

"Titans," Lelouch repeated unnecessarily as a million disastrous implications rampaged through his mind, "Argyre Planitia is a Titan workshop."

"Yes, sir," confirmed an Intelligence officer, "According to the Mechanicum's report, a Warlord-class and two Warhound-class Titans were being prepared for transport just before the communications blackout hit."

"What forces do we have there? The forge should have its own garrison, and Roboute was planning to use the basin as a staging ground…"

"Just before the blackout, Primarch Guilliman reported that he had gathered the Ultramarines and twenty of their successor chapters, totaling just under twelve thousand Astartes, at Argyre Planitia. The forge garrison numbers two and a half million Skitarii, with one million stationed at the Titan workshop. Additionally, forty-seven thousand Brides of the Emperor were in the process of arming and equipping when we lost communications."

"The _whats_ of the Emperor?" Lelouch's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah! Here come the nuns with guns! Now this is a party! Though I feel like I'm forgetting somebody... Huh...probably nothing important... With that, I will see you all next time!


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine: Metal Monsters IV

**A/N:** Alright, you can all put your power swords and flamers away. New chapter inbound!

**Disclaimer:** _Warhammer 40k_ and _Code Geass_? Not mine.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Metal Monsters, Part IV**

**Argyre Planitia Forge, Surface of Mars  
Day Fifteen of the Battle of Mars**

Battle Sister Aureliana Verginia's eyes shot open and she bolted upright as the sound of bells filled the tiny room. Suppressing a yawn, she shook her head vigorously to clear the fuzziness from her mind. A series of yawns and the rustling of fabric told Aureliana that the others had awoken. Stretching and massaging muscles sore from a night of sleeping on cold rockcrete, the dozen Battle Sisters made their way to the hab block's main area. If any of them were still sleepy, they were jolted wide awake as the piercing wail of air raid sirens filled the forge complex.

Per Canoness Superior Laurentia Caelina's orders, the tinny recording of the Convent Prioris' bells was broadcast on all local Adepta Sororitas channels twice daily. Originally intended as a call to prayer, Aureliana's platoon had adopted it as a signal to change shifts. Though contact with other units scattered throughout the forge complex was sporadic at best, Aureliana doubted her unit was alone in the practice. In recent days, however, the air raid sirens had begun taking over the bells' role.

With only a decaying lamp-pack to provide illumination, Aureliana set out their rations for the day—a nutrient bar and a carefully-measured canteen of water apiece—atop a piece of salvaged flakboard. Several Sisters began laying out the group's weapons and armor at the center of the chamber. Most of the forge's remaining stock had already been taken to Terra by the time the Adepta Sororitas arrived, but enough bolters remained to equip every Battle Sister. The same could not be said of their distinctive Sabbat-pattern power armor: there were only enough suits left to equip one in ten Battle Sisters defending the forge complex, and frontline units received priority. Rear-echelon platoons, among them Aureliana's, made do with flak armor.

The Sisters not otherwise occupied set to cleaning the shrine, if such a makeshift setup could even lay claim to so grand a title. Cobbled together from the sisters' personal effects, the symbol of their faith occupied one of the corners. An icon of the Immortal God-Emperor formed the centerpiece, and a tiny silver Aquila hung below it. A small leather-bound prayer book lay on a makeshift altar fashioned from a chunk of flakboard. One of the Sisters retrieved the platoon's only sacred candle, now reduced to a stub, and carefully placed it before the icon.

The droning of innumerable aircraft overhead and the whistling of falling bombs drowned out the approaching footsteps until their owners entered the room. The other half of Aureliana platoon wordlessly slipped in the chamber, shedding their flak armor and carefully inspecting their weapons. Ammunition remained in critically-short supply, and the incoming Sisters counted and recounted every bolt before passing the clips to the second watch.

Their duties for the evening complete, the twenty-odd Sororitas occupying the hab block knelt in front of the shrine and bowed their heads. The most senior of the platoon reverently lit the candle and stepped back, allowing the scented perfumes to circulate before starting the Emperor's Prayer.

"The Emperor is my savior. He is my protector. With the Emperor at my side, I shall fear nothing, for He is my shield, and His wrath is my sword…"

An explosion tore through the hab block, sending the gathered Sisters flying.

* * *

**Argyre Planitia Mining Complex  
Surface of Mars**

The mining facilities at Argyre Planitia dated back to the Great Crusade, constructed by the Mechanicum in hopes of exploiting the rich veins of platinum and iridium left behind by ancient meteorite impacts. Long after the minerals were exhausted, the complex continued to play its part in supplying the ravenous Imperial war machine. Workers dug through ancient waste heaps in search of valuable salvage and combed countless kilometers of tunnels for archeotech. When even those resources ran out, the gutted buildings were disassembled and broken down to feed the nearby forge.

When the Chaos vanguard fleets appeared in orbit, neither the Argyre Planitia garrisons nor the Ultramarines bothered defending the dilapidated complex. Perhaps eyeing the surrounding bulldozed-flat ground as a staging ground for his siege engines, Peturabo paid the mines significantly more attention. As the bulk of the Iron Warriors pushed ahead to engage the Imperial defenses, a small force stayed behind to secure the facility.

* * *

Once a garage for shipping crawlers, the massive gantry cranes and conveyer belts that loaded and unloaded the transports had long since been broken down for scrap or reverse-engineered for their technological secrets. Only ancient promethium and lubricant stains on the rockcrete floor remained to remind passerby of the chamber's purpose. A squad of traitor Guardsmen patrolled the walkways overhead, eyes scanning the horizon for the Imperial counterattack that was likely to never occur.

As the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, the only source of illumination became the cultists' flashlights and Sergeant's chronometer. Every noise, from the traitors' footsteps to the creaks and groans of an aging structure, was echoed and magnified tenfold in the empty corridors. Exactly on the hour, the Sergeant's timepiece quietly beeped and a hiss of static blared from his vox bead.

"Command to Squad Three, what's your status?" the vox operator on the other end demanded impatiently.

"Squad Three to Command," Sergeant Sokoloff grumbled, "Nothing to report."

A blast of white noise replaced the normal acknowledgement, and Sokoloff would have sworn to the Ruinous Powers themselves that he heard a wet snapping sound and gurgling beneath the static. The Sergeant tapped his vox bead again, repeating his sitrep in a louder voice. He swore as more static assaulted his ears, causing him to rip the device out of his ear and throw it to the ground.

"Command isn't responding," Sokoloff turned to face his second-in-command, "See if you can raise Squad Fo-"

Screams and lasfire echoed through the hallways, banishing any thoughts of restoring vox contact. Shouldering their weapons, the ten traitor Guardsmen sprinted towards the source of the noise.

* * *

If he had not known better, Pisti Sokoloff would have thought the carnage before him were wrought by Khornate Berserkers. Rapidly-congealing blood stained the walls and pooled on the floor. A severed head, terror etched permanently in its features, rolled along the floor and came to a stop against the Sergeant's boot. Another body, a sizable hole gouged in its chest, lay face-down two meters away. A sword of indeterminate origin impaled the squad's Sergeant against the wall. Seven more bodies lay scattered around the corridor, forming gruesome islands of flesh amidst the ocean of crimson.

One of the enemy's armored shock troopers lying in a pool of blood formed the macabre display's centerpiece. Dozens of scorch marks and gouges from close-range lasbolt impacts dotted its exterior, though Pisti suspected the half-dozen Power Sword wounds were what finally felled the beast. Like millions of his fellow traitor Guardsmen, the Sergeant had feverishly prayed to the Ruinous Powers for protection as ships of a previously-unknown race picked off the troop transports one-by-one. He had heard tales of their nightmarishly-powerful ground forces, of metal titans equal to entire platoons of Guardsmen.

A feeling on unease settled over Sokoloff as he waved two of his men forward. The Guardsmen shouldered their lasguns and cautiously approached the body, taking care to step around their comrades' corpses. His heart skipped a beat as one of the men kicked the armored form. The fear remained even as the enemy remained completely immobile.

"Cle-," the first Guardsmen was cut off by a dagger spinning through the air and burying itself up to the hilt in his forehead.

Many of Sokoloff's squad, among them the second vanguard, snapped and began firing wildly into the darkness. A bulky shadow dropped down from the ceiling, flowing between the gaps in lasfire as it fell. It landed on its feet with a loud _thud_, leaving millimeters-deep impressions in the rockcrete floor. The advance team's other member had scant heartbeats to scream before a savage blow buried him in a nearby wall. The incoming lasgun fire slackened momentarily, then resumed with even greater intensity. The dagger that killed the first man suddenly reappeared in the figure's left hand moments before the entire limb morphed into a fast-moving blur. Two more Guardsmen dropped dead as some unseen force redirected their lasbolts back towards them.

Their limbs suddenly feeling impossibly heavy, the remaining members of Sokoloff's squad could only watch in mute terror as the shadow stood up to its full two-meter height. As the armored corpse faded away, the shadows that wreathed the new arrival dissolved, revealing an identical metal titan sans the Power Sword wounds. Pisti had fought alongside enough Tzeentchian cults to know sorcery when he witnessed it. The Knightmare's eyes flashed, and the traitor Guardsmen could only shut their eyes and throw their arms up in a futile effort to block the oncoming red tide.

Panic gripped every fiber of Pisti Sokoloff's being as he opened his eyes to pitch blackness. He could hear heavy intermittent footsteps and lasgun discharges. He heard a blade being forcibly pulled from its rockcrete-and-flesh sheath. He heard the screams of his men as the enemy's horrific weapons carved them to pieces. When his lasgun's muzzle flashes failed to pierce the darkness that engulfed them all, Pisti realized that the enemy had not disabled the lights: he had taken away their eyesight.

The chopping and screaming abruptly stopped, replaced by silence. Sokoloff could hear fresh blood dripping from newly-made corpses, pooling and mixing with the old congealed gore. He heard a near-inaudible _crack_, felt a blade savagely parting his bowels, and the illusory darkness was soon replaced by the real thing.

* * *

**Black Knights Theater Group A Field Headquarters  
Vicinity of Argyre Planitia, Surface of Mars**

With the sheer amount of reinforcements Abaddon was pouring into Argyre Planitia, allied forces could ill-afford to charge in blind. The massive Warp storms surrounding the entire basin blocked sensor sweeps, and the enemy held total air superiority over the area. The few recon craft able to breach the storms were promptly shot down by patrolling Chaos fighters. With every other option exhausted, the Black Knights sent in the Raiders. Nearly seventy-two hours ago, the twelve men and women of the 2nd Raiders and a Psychic Special Warfare Operative disappeared into the mine tunnels snaking under the entire region. With layers of bedrock blocking communications, they were forced to place dozens of relay stations as they slowly navigated the forgotten passages.

"Ma'am, we've received a sitrep from Lieutenant Landsford," a communications technician turned to face Field Marshal Barros, "They've successfully infiltrated the main mining complex and neutralized the patrols."

"Tell them to link up with Imperial forces in the forge complex as quickly as possible," Lelouch interrupted, "They need to know reinforcements are inbound _before_ they decide to make a suicidal charge."

"Yes, sir," the technician acknowledged and turned around to reopen the communications line.

"What forces do we have at our disposal?" Lelouch turned to ask another technician.

"Two regiments from the Death Korps of Kreig just arrived this morning. Additionally, five Praetorian Guard regiments are five hours out. We're also receiving word of a regiment of Catachan Jungle Fighters in the area that still hasn't reported in."

"Good," Lelouch nodded, "Carry on."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

**Argyre Planitia Forge  
Surface of Mars**

Aureliana stared at the scene before her in disbelief. A Chaos bunker-buster bomb had demolished the room where she and her fellow Sisters slept to rubble, along with room several floors below it. She could see platoons of Skitarii scrambling over piles of rubble in the streets below, struggling to get their howitzers and mortars under cover before the next wave of artillery shells pounded the complex. Having spent her formative years as a Sister of the Order Hospitaller before the Prioress pressed all able-bodied Sororitas into military service, she was no stranger the screams of the dead and dying. The lack of said screams unnerved her as much as the chaos below. Aureliana slowly reached up to touch the sides of her head, and her fingers bought back blood.

Turning around, she could see several of her Sisters stirring and shakily sitting up. Flying debris had sliced up their skin and uniforms, but they seemed otherwise unharmed. Aureliana paid them little mind and made a beeline for one of the motionless women. Seeing that a jagged piece of rockcrete had ripped the unfortunate Sister's throat out, the former Hospitaller could only close her eyes and say a brief prayer on the fallen Sororitas' behalf before moving on. Another, her hands clutched over her abdomen in an effort to keep her bowels from spilling out, opened her eyes for a brief second before going to join the Emperor.

The floor beneath Aureliana's feet shook as the Chaos artillery batteries renewed their bombardment.

* * *

**Chaos Landing Zone  
Argyre Planitia, Surface of Mars**

"Look at that," one of the Raiders whistled while pointing towards the forge complex, "Peturabo must've been pounding them the whole two weeks."

Great columns of smoke, visible even to the naked eye, rose from the distant fortress. Hundreds of bombers droned overhead, circling over the burning forge but showing no sign of going in for another attack run. Smoke trails of a million rockets choked the skies. Even without hearing enhancement, the thundering of Chaos artillery batteries reached their ears. The massive shadow of Craftworld Altansar loomed over them all, bathing the impact basin in shadow. Thousands of tiny dots, no doubt dropships and bombers, swarmed around the corrupted hulk like so many gnats.

"Contact! Fifty meters at three o'clock and closing!"

The Raiders immediately hit the ground, hiding behind rocks where they could and going prone where they couldn't. They took slow deaths to slow their heartbeats and steady their aim as they leveled their machine guns towards the rapidly-approaching speck. The Operative's eyes flashed briefly as he unsheathed his blades.

"I've put an illusion over all of us," the man explained in a raspy voice, "He won't see us unless he crashes into one of us."

As the runner drew closer, the eight-pointed star of Chaos Undivided carved into the shoulders of his flak armor became visible. He had no weapon, and a look of utter terror was etched on his mutilated face. Trigger fingers tightened as he drew closer, but an unseen shooter reduced his head to a fine red mist before he got within ten meters of the group.

The Raiders waited nearly two hours before setting out in the shot's general direction.

* * *

"They got slaughtered," a Raider deadpanned while observing the scene before her.

A Devourer-class dropship burned furiously in the middle of the clearing, periodically rocked by explosions as the fire cooked off the last of its fuel and ammunition stores. Charred skeletons spilled out of the landing ramp, and dozens of corpses surrounded the destroyed hulk. A sharp-eyed Raider spotted the twisted remains of a fuel tanker within the dropship's vehicle bay, thus explaining the violent flames. The wrecks of several Griffon- and Medusa-type siege tanks were clustered around the craft, their fate made obvious by the gaping holes they sported in the place of ammunition stores.

"Whoever did this was no amateur. They were probably hit while saddling up to move out. A lascannon shot apiece to take out the turrets, or even just to fuse their rotation mechanisms," the Operative pointed out areas of interest on the wreckage, "Once the ship's defenseless, blow off a landing strut with a Hunter-Killer Missile. Dropship tips over, and the ambush becomes a massacre."

"Infighting?" one of the Raiders suggested.

"No," Lieutenant Landsford shook his head.

The twelve other Black Knights turned to face him as he flipped one of the corpses over. The Lieutenant pointed to the wound in the middle of the traitor Guardsman's back, ripping open the dead man's tunic to expose the surrounding flesh. Rather than recoil in disgust at the sight of necrotic flesh, the Raiders leaned in for a closer look. One particularly brave soul touched two fingers to the injury, immediately noting its tapered shape.

"Only one kind of blade in the galaxy leaves a wound like this," the Lieutenant concluded, "A Catachan Night Reaper."

Easily one of the most recognizable designs in the Imperium, Catachan knives also became one of the rarest following the world's Exterminatus in the final days of M47. Though many Jungle Fighters survived to pass on the forging techniques, the loss of the unique form of iron mined on their homeworld ensured any new knives were pale imitations at best. Over the millennia, many of the remaining originals were destroyed by their owners when facing death or capture.

Despite the "seen everything, done everything" outlook adopted by most Raiders, it took the squad some time to notice the several sets of nearly-obliterated Sentinel tracks.

* * *

**Argyre Planitia Forge, Surface of Mars  
Day Twenty-Five of the Battle of Mars**

Quite frankly, Aureliana preferred the bombers. The droning of a hundred thousand jet engines was met with the wailing of air-raid sirens. The Skitarii flooded the fortified streets, illuminating the darkening skies with flares and searchlights. The booming of numerous flak batteries drowned out the whistling of falling bombs. The attacking aircraft fell from the skies by the dozen, and the Sisters would hunt down and finish off the surviving aircrews. Against the bombers, they could at least do _something_.

When the bombing stopped and the shelling began, the Skitarii and Sororitas could only bunker down and weather the storm. With their auspex arrays and air forces almost totally destroyed, the defenders had nearly no way of accurately locating the enemy artillery. Several Basilisk crews valiantly attempted to do so with math and dead reckoning, but the enemy answered every outgoing shell with a hundred incoming ones. In the end, they destroyed only a small handful of Chaos artillery pieces and filled several hundred body bags.

Aureliana's medical training told her that the explosion had ruptured her ear drums, and she was fairly sure by the second day that she would need to see a chiurgeon to regain her hearing. She was one of the lucky ones: the blast had killed six Sisters outright, and five more succumbed to their injuries over the next few hours. Lacking any form of medical supplies, Aureliana was forced to administer the Emperor's Peace with her bare hands. The surviving Sisters lay the corpses in a side room and covered them up the best they could.

With nothing to do but wait out the shelling, Aureliana's platoon undertook any possible task to stave off thoughts of the deceased. They maintained and polished their weapons enough to pass even the toughest of inspections. They cleaned and prayed at their makeshift shrine for hours at a time. They played every game they remembered from the schola, then made up new ones when those ran out.

The battered Skitarii squad that staggered into their hab block on the bombardment's fifth day came as a welcome relief. Dispatched from the forge itself, the eight Mechanicum soldiers bought boxes of ration bars to supplement the Sisters' dwindling supplies and additional weapons to defend their position. More importantly, they bought fresh faces to talk to and a Tarot deck to keep them sane. The Tribune, quickly noticing Aureliana's condition, even provided her with a pen and paper.

When Aureliana Verginia awoke on the tenth day of shelling, she noticed that the floor's constant vibration had ceased. She cautiously peered outside and saw only a clear pink sky where she expected innumerable rocket exhaust trails. Her heart skipped a beat when a cold hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled around, ready to attack. Her fist stopped millimeters from the Tribune's face. Aureliana sheepishly lowered her arm and fished out her pad.

_What's happening?_

The Tribune took the offered pen and hurriedly scrawled down his reply. Aureliana's blood instantly ran cold.

_The enemy's launched an all-out assault on our southern flank._

* * *

"Stand firm, Sisters!" rasped the Canoness Superior, "Hold your fire until you see the whites of their eyes!"

Though members of the Adepta Sororitas traditionally bleached their hair bone-white, Laurentia Caelina had not needed to for years. In another time, she would have long since traded her power armor for a habit and her bolter for a stack of holy texts. She might have embarked on a final pilgrimage before taking over a convent and spending the remainder of her years teaching a new batch of young girls how to kill in the Emperor's name. In better times, the Imperium would have never asked Laurentia or a great many of the Sororitas beside her to fight.

"_Incoming!"_

Far over the horizon, a line of Iron Warriors siege tanks lobbed shell after shell at the Imperial lines. The first volley reduced dozens of Sisters into airborne collections of gore and orphaned limbs and blinded the survivors with flying dust and debris. An Immolator exploded after it was struck in the fuel tank, showering those clustered around it in flaming promethium. The lucky ones were incinerated almost instantly, while the unlucky ones fell to the ground shrieking in agony as they tried to claw their skin off. The rabble militia that accompanied the Sisters retaliated with mortars of their own, but the improvised explosives had little hope of even scratching the enemy guns.

The first wave of Chaos ground troops appeared over the horizon as the defenders struggled to regroup. Even without her helmet's aid, Laurentia could already discern individual details on the approaching cultists. She could see men and women who had carved blasphemous symbols into their flesh, whose sanities were eroded by potent combat drugs, whose bodies were bloated with pestilence. Heretical litanies turned to screams of pain as the oncoming horde charged straight into a minefield. Thousands of crude but horrifyingly-effective devices constructed by the forge workers—one-use flamers, industrial sprayers loaded with caustic chemical waste, storage drums loaded with gunpowder and jagged metal bits—ripped through the enemy's forward ranks.

"_Immolators! Cleanse this filth!"_

Great streams of flame arced over the defenders' heads, covering the blood-soaked sands in flames. Cultists became torches, falling to the ground and screaming in pain as holy promethium clung to their skin and clothing. Whether motivated by mind-destroying drugs or promises of their patrons' favor, enemy soldiers mindlessly threw themselves upon the pyres, suffocating the flames with their bodies. The gruesome aftermath—the charred skeletons and corpses burned beyond recognition—was quickly trampled underfoot by the oncoming horde. The Immolators fired their tanks dry, and continued mortar fire forced them to seek cover deeper within the complex.

"_Exorcists! Now!"_

Smoke engulfed the Imperial lines as the combination rocket artillery and shrines left their hiding places and opened fire. Armor-piercing rockets screamed through the atmosphere, sailing past the approaching horde and landing amongst the siege tanks behind it. A great many warheads malfunctioned, but the volume of incoming mortar fire nevertheless lessened considerably. As the crews readied another salvo, this time targeting the enemy infantry, heavy bolters and stubbers stationed within overlooking buildings opened fire.

"_Sisters, purge them in the name of the Emperor!"_ Laurentia bellowed, a sudden vitality coursing through her veins.

* * *

With a snarl, Battle Sister Herminia Cassia slammed the butt of her bolter into the closest traitor's face. The man, clad in the tatters of an Imperial Guard uniform, staggered backwards while clutching his shattered nose. Herminia put a round in his chest before returning to her place on the line. Spent casings clattered to her feet as she unloaded towards the oncoming horde in short controlled bursts. Resisting the urge to just hold down the trigger took more and more willpower as the cultist mob drew closer.

Having carefully counted her shots, Herminia knew she had fired her last bolt before she heard the telltale _click_ of an empty chamber. A burly cultist clambered over the barricade and body-checked the Battle Sister before she could reload. Her lungs forcibly expelled the air they held and her vision swam when she hit the ground, and Herminia only barely avoided a lasgun butt crashing down. She intercepted the second swing with her bolter, throwing all her weight behind it. Her armor servos barely made up for the many kilograms of muscle her assailant had over her.

Adrenaline surged through Herminia's veins as she saw another attacker decapitate her neighbor with a chainsword. She pushed her opponent back half a step, giving her just enough room to gut him with her sarissa. Another Sister wasn't as lucky, her opponent having wrapped his hands around her neck, and went limp before Herminia could aid her. She dropped her gun butt onto the cultist's spine, snapping it in two, and crushed his skull beneath her boot.

"_Gas! Gas!"_

The sight before Herminia would haunt her until her dying day. Those fortunate enough to receive warning scrambled for protective gear, but few could don it quickly enough. A colorless mist descended upon the battlefield and engulfed the combatants, killing Sisters and cultists alike. Victims sank to their knees, clutching their throats and gurgling as they drowned on dry land. Eyes blistered shut and mouths ringed with chemical burns, they died slow and agonizing deaths. Bolters barked as Sisters granted their comrades the Emperor's Peace.

Nearly blinded by the caustic chemicals, Herminia dropped her helmet. Holding her breath, the Battle Sister fell to her knees and began desperately searching. As her lungs screamed for air, her motions grew steadily more frantic. The Sororitas loosed a scream of pain and frustration when her hands hit something hard and heavy, which promptly skittered out of reach. Her strength spent, she collapsed into the rubble and began making her peace with the Emperor.

It seemed that the Emperor was not quite done with Herminia Cassia. A yelp of surprise passed between her blistered lips as an unseen force seized her and propped her against the wall. She felt something engulf her head and heard the hiss of hermetic seals. Though each breath bought a new wave of agony, Herminia slowly gulped down the stale recycled air. As her head slowly cleared, she could hear people conversing in ancient Low Gothic.

"_Shit! Second wave incoming!"_ a tinny voice yelled from somewhere nearby, _"Looks like they've got gas masks and chemical warfare gear!"_

"_Is there anything you can do about the gas?"_ another equally-frantic voice shot back.

"_Not against this much of it!"_ the first voice screamed back.

"Hey, stay with me," a third voice gently addressed Herminia, "You're going to be all right."

The half-dead Sister of Battle wondered if the voice belonged to a daemon. She couldn't put up much resistance in her current state should it wish to convert or consume her. Herminia weakly groped the air in front of her, tensing when her hand found metal. Something about the way the surface curved told her that she found her savior's helmet, and he stayed statue-still as she traced the contours of his faceplate. He felt too small for an Astartes, yet too large for a Skitarii.

"My name is Lieutenant Matthew Landsford, 2nd Raiders. We're here to help," the voice reassured her after a moment's pause, "I need to know who the highest-ranking officer in this area is and where I can find them."

* * *

**Black Knights Theater Group A Field Headquarters  
Day Forty-Five of the Siege of Mars**

"By the time we arrived, the Iron Warriors had already deployed chemical weapons against the Imperial lines. The forge's defenders took heavy casualties, and the subsequent ground assault sliced right through the outer defenses. The enemy's latest push nearly drove us out of the basin altogether," Lieutenant Landsford concluded his report.

"And what is your opinion on the situation, Lieutenant?" Lelouch inquired in an utterly impassive voice.

"We're already fighting with our backs against the Titan workshop, and we barely stopped the last attack. If Peturabo launches another chemical attack, we're finished," the holographic Knightmare shook his head sadly, "Even if he doesn't, we're looking at another three to four days at most."

"Something's bothering you, Lieutenant," Lelouch observed, "If it's at all related to the situation at hand, I need to know."

The Lieutenant hesitated for a moment, then continued.

"The Brides of the Emperor," Lelouch twitched, "defending the Argyre Planitia forge are a second-rate army at the very best. Most of them are either past their fighting prime or fresh from whatever their equivalent of boot camp is. The rest look like they've never held a gun in their lives."

Lelouch pressed his lips together in annoyance. He had a _very_ good idea of where the first-rate units were stationed. As if on cue, CC and a squad of Psychic Special Warfare Operatives burst through the door.

"Tell whoever's in charge that the Ecclesiarchal Palace will reinforce them within the next twenty-four hours," Lelouch ordered as he closed the channel.

* * *

**A/N:** Dust off your popcorn, 'cause shit's about to get good! Maybe...

In the meantime, a new soundtrack addition:

Insert Song (Siege of Argyre Planitia): Stalingrad - Sabaton

Also...is it just me, or does nobody ever finish the Emperor's Prayer?


End file.
